


Human

by cellorocksmyworld



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:54:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 179,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23404057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellorocksmyworld/pseuds/cellorocksmyworld
Summary: Nymphadora Tonks takes a chance and asks the pariah of the wizarding world - Remus Lupin - out for a drink. The chaos that ensues will test her bravery, her ability to Apparate whilst drunk, and her perception of those who must live in the grey areas between black and white. AU
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Comments: 24
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

"You don't seem as happy as the others."

Tonks stood in the doorway to the balcony, glass of champagne in hand, staring at the rigid back of her former professor. Lupin was gazing out over the rooftops of London, a cold November breeze ruffling his greying hair. He snorted.

"Whatever gave you that impression?"

Tonks approached slowly, placing her glass on the railing several feet away from him.

"Oh, you know. The dark brooding looks, the lack of a drink, the fact that you haven't spoken to anyone since you entered the room."

She watched Lupin's profile as he raised an eyebrow.

"You speak as though I'm usually the life of the party."

It was her turn to snort. Professor Lupin was not known for his social grace. In fact, his arrival in a room often prompted most of its occupants to leave.

"Touché," she said. "Let me correct myself – you seem even more antisocial than usual."

Lupin finally turned to look at her. As always, his unsettling amber eyes bored into her, like he was searching for something. Most people who met Lupin thought he was creepy. Tonks just always found herself wondering what he was looking for.

"I apologize if my celebrations don't live up to your standards, Miss Tonks."

She crossed her arms.

"Stop being a dick," she said. "Your team captured the last of the Reapers! They've been on the run since the War ended fifteen years ago, it's the end of a fucking era. Look, Sirius is dangling from the bloody chandelier!"

Lupin craned his neck to look back through the balcony door. Sure enough, there was Sirius, hanging upside down with a bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand. Only a fraction of the liquid seemed to be entering his mouth – the rest of it was showering on the party below – but Tonks's cousin didn't seem to mind. The last of Voldemort's soldiers had been caught. Everyone was celebrating – everyone, that is, except for the man who had helped make it happen.

"So why are you moping around out here?" she asked.

Shaking his head at his colleague's antics, Lupin turned back and resumed his examination of the London skyline. He completely ignored her question. Tonks rolled her eyes and grabbed her glass of champagne, taking another sip. She had known Professor Lupin for six years now, ever since he'd taken up the Defense Against the Dark Arts position in her seventh year at Hogwarts. He'd gone on to teach for the Auror training program at the Ministry, and she had worked with him several times since she'd qualified as an Auror three years ago. At this point, she knew him well enough to say that he was a brilliant teacher, a good person to have at your back in a fight… and a terrible conversationalist.

Giving up on Lupin, Tonks was about to return to the festivities when she caught a glimpse of Mundungus Fletcher prowling through the crowd inside. She grimaced. Last time she had encountered Dung, he'd pinched her bum and she'd broken his nose. She would prefer not to get blood on the Potters' carpet again. Sighing, she turned back and rested her forearms on the balcony next to Lupin.

They were in the Potter family's penthouse flat in Covent Garden, with a stunning view of Big Ben and the London Eye. Tonks didn't want to think about how much this place cost. Her tiny room in Brixton was almost more than she could afford on an Auror salary. She couldn't hold it against the Potters though – they were lovely people, and very generous with their money. This wasn't the first drunken night she'd had here…

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Lupin was twisting his hands together. Maybe it was the four glasses of champagne she'd already consumed, but it almost looked like he was trying to keep them from trembling. She looked up at him, liquid courage spurring her to ask a question she never would have voiced otherwise.

"Are you alright?"

Lupin stiffened. He was notoriously bad with personal questions. People prying into his affairs were met with a scowl if they were lucky, an angry snarl if they weren't. She was therefore surprised when he turned to her, his expression mildly curious.

"Why do you care, Miss Tonks?"

She furrowed her brow. To be honest, she didn't really know the answer to that question.

"I dunno," she responded intelligently. "Because that's what friends do, I suppose. Care."

He raised an eyebrow again.

"Are we… friends?"

She shrugged, taking another sip of champagne.

"Well… I'd say we're at least friend- _ly_."

Lupin gave her a long, searching look.

"I would be careful if I were you, Tonks," he finally said. "Being friendly with a werewolf and former Reaper won't do your career any good."

It was said with deadly earnest, and yet Tonks found herself snorting with laughter.

"Is that what this is about?" she giggled. Lupin stared at her, bewildered.

"All this sulking out here on the balcony?" she continued. "You think nobody wants you in there because you used to be a Reaper?"

Lupin was now glaring at her. Once upon a time, she would have found this terrifying. Now, she knew the man well enough to recognise that he used anger to conceal discomfort.

"No, Miss Tonks," he growled. "I'm out here because I just betrayed the last of my brothers. Forgive me if I don't feel like celebrating that fact."

Tonks stopped laughing abruptly. Lupin glared at her for another moment, then turned back to the open air. Tense silence stretched between them.

Everyone knew the story. Remus Lupin had been raised in the werewolf packs. At eleven years old, he was chosen by Voldemort himself to join the Dark Lord's elite team of Dark Creature bodyguards – the Reapers. He had gained Voldemort's trust, even his affection. Then he had betrayed his master to the Order of the Phoenix, risking everything to give Dumbledore the information he needed to defeat Lord Voldemort at last.

The man was a hero. He was also a war criminal. The Wizengamot had pardoned him, because they knew that without his help, Voldemort would have won the War. But everyone knew that Lupin had killed more people before his seventeenth birthday than most Death Eaters had in their entire lives.

Needless to say, the man had a lot of enemies, and very few friends. Tonks had always figured that Lupin liked it that way. He certainly didn't seem interested in making himself agreeable to people. In fact, she suspected that he got perverse pleasure out of terrifying anyone who met him. He had a bad habit of growling at anyone who got too close to him.

Now, however, Tonks found herself wondering whether Lupin's pariah status bothered him more than he let on.

"I'm sorry," she finally said. "I never realized how much the Reapers mean to you."

The man scoffed, turning to her fully and crossing his arms over his chest.

"They're fucking bastards, the lot of them. They don't _mean_ anything to me."

"Liar," she retorted. "You just said they're your brothers."

"You don't get to choose your family, Miss Tonks," Lupin said. "I certainly didn't get to choose mine."

He reached up and pulled at the collar of his shirt. Tonks knew that underneath the layer of thin cotton, the tattoo of a twisting black snake marred his skin, branding him as one of Voldemort's bodyguards. There was no hiding it now – his hands were trembling.

"If you don't care about them, then why are you so upset?" she asked, draining the last of her champagne. Lupin glared at her but she ignored him.

"You'll be able to see them again, you know," she said. "If they were taken as children, like you were, then they might get lighter sentences."

Something went hard and cold in Lupin's eyes. Tonks froze. What had she said?

"You'll – you'll be able to testify at their trial. The Wizengamot will listen to you," she continued, more tentatively. Lupin's expression was making her uneasy.

"There won't be a trial, Miss Tonks. Not for them."

Lupin's voice was quiet and calm, but the finality of his tone frightened her.

"What? What do you mean?"

He turned back to look out over London, bracing his forearms on the balcony railing again. He took a deep breath, paused, then began to speak.

"When we brought them back to the Ministry, Beast Division came and collected them. Umbridge said they would be kept in the cells overnight before trial. Everyone else fucked off here to start drinking. But I…"

His voice was strained now, quiet. Out of the corner of her eye, Tonks saw James Potter walk onto the balcony, drink in hand. A subtle shake of her head kept him quiet, and they both stood, listening to Lupin.

"I didn't trust her, or her goons," he continued, eyes staring blankly out at Big Ben. "I Disillusioned myself, and followed them. They brought the Reapers down to the cells, just like they said they would. But the Dementors were waiting for them."

Tonks gasped involuntarily, hand flying to her mouth. She could see Lupin's face twisting as he remembered what he had seen.

"They won't get a trial," he said, "because they were Kissed, right then and there."

Nobody spoke for a long moment. The only sound was Lupin's harsh breathing. Finally, James stepped forward, reaching out a hand to his colleague's shoulder.

"Remus…"

Lupin flinched violently, twisting away from the man he hadn't known was listening.

"Don't – " he began, but then fell silent. Tonks caught a glimpse of his anguished face before he turned away, breathing deeply.

"Remus, mate, I'm sorry – " James began, but Lupin was already retreating back into his shell. When he looked back at them, his face had returned to its normal expressionless mask. He straightened his shoulders. Tonks watched this transformation in mute astonishment.

"It doesn't matter," Lupin muttered. "It doesn't fucking matter."

"It _does_ matter!" James cried. "Every single one of those men deserved a trial, I don't care what they did. And _none_ of them deserved the Kiss, that was outlawed two years ago! Umbridge has gone _way_ too far this time, she won't get away with it – "

Lupin laughed. It was not a happy sound.

"Do you really think anyone will care, James?" he asked bitterly. "A few more of Voldemort's lackies got the Kiss. They'll pawn it off as some sort of accident, a rogue Dementor or something. The wizarding world will _rejoice_."

"If that's true, then we're no better than the Death Eaters," Tonks said incredulously. "Give us a bit more credit than that, Professor."

"Exactly," James agreed. "They can't just sweep this under the rug. Umbridge has half the Ministry under her thumb, but this could be the evidence to bring her down once and for all. We have to do something about this!"

"Do somethin' 'bout what?" Sirius slurred, wandering out onto the balcony with the empty bottle of Firewhiskey still in his hand. James ignored him.

"Look, mate, come talk to Dumbledore with me. Tell him what happened!"

But Lupin was already shaking his head.

"It really doesn't matter, I didn't want to – to make a big deal of it. I was just… I don't know, I was just talking."

He gestured helplessly towards Tonks. Suddenly he looked exhausted.

"Just forget about it, okay?"

He started for the door, dodging James's outstretched hand.

"What are you afraid of, Remus?"

Lupin paused, his hand on the doorframe. He didn't turn around, and Tonks had to strain to hear his response.

"I'm not afraid, James. I'm just tired of fighting."

He disappeared into the crowd. James, Sirius and Tonks looked at each other.

"Wha' was _that_ all 'bout?" Sirius asked, swaying gently on his feet. Tonks didn't stay to hear James's response. Sudden resolve spurred her feet forward, and she followed Lupin into the crowded room. She caught a glimpse of him heading for the front door. He was leaving. He hadn't even been there for twenty minutes.

"Professor!" she cried. He didn't turn around. She pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring greetings from coworkers, former classmates, and friends. Dodging Bill's and Charlie's attempts to pull her into conversation, she called to Lupin again.

"Professor Lupin! _Remus!_ "

This time he turned around and caught her eye. His entire body was tense, and she could tell that he wanted nothing more than to escape through the door behind him. She hurried forward, not quite sure what she planned on doing. What could she possibly say that would be at all helpful?

Any delusions of saying something meaningful abruptly vanished when her foot caught a stray table leg. She spared a brief moment to curse her incessant clumsiness, and then the floor rose rapidly to meet her.

Strong arms caught her in midflight. Lupin pulled her upright, warm hands on her waist. She looked up at him, astonished. He must have leapt several metres across the room to catch her before she hit the ground. And then, suddenly, she knew what she needed to do.

Lupin was already pulling away, but Tonks pressed her body into his, wrapping her arms around his bony shoulders. The man stiffened, clearly shocked. He held his hands out to the sides for a long moment before awkwardly returning them to the middle of her back. He cleared his throat, and Tonks could feel the rumble of it in his chest where it was pressed against hers. He smelled like wood smoke and sweat, but it was an oddly pleasant scent.

"Um, Tonks?" he asked, his voice perceptibly higher than normal. He sounded bemused.

"Just go with it, Professor," she said. "Everyone needs a hug now and then."

To her surprise, she actually felt his arms tighten around her.

"Could you please stop calling me Professor?" he muttered. Tonks grinned, pulling back just far enough to look at his face.

"Why?" she asked. "Am I making you feel old?"

A slight flush of his cheeks was all the response she needed. She watched his eyes dart over her shoulder, and she craned her neck to see James and Sirius pushing their way through the crowd. She turned back to Lupin and saw his clenched jaw and hard expression.

"Do you want to get out of here? I know a good Muggle pub."

"Yeah," Lupin replied immediately. He turned and pulled the door open, ushering her through before slamming it shut behind him. Tonks offered him her hand, and he looked down at it, then back up at her.

"Go on, then," she said, grinning. He reached out and clasped her hand, and she Apparated on the spot.

They landed in an alley a few streets away from Tonks's favorite pub in Brixton. Lupin – clearly not used to side-along Apparating – struggled for balance and pitched forward towards Tonks. She grabbed his sides, and he managed to catch himself on the alley wall behind her. For the second time in as many minutes, Tonks found herself very close to one of the deadliest men in wizarding Britain.

"You haven't even had anything to drink yet, mate," she said, laughing. "What's your excuse?"

Lupin leapt away from her. She couldn't see his face, but she was willing to bet that the flush in his cheeks was even more obvious now.

"Where's this pub?" he asked gruffly, ignoring her teasing. She jerked her head up the alley.

"A few streets away, come on."

They walked in awkward silence. Tonks didn't really know what had come over her, inviting her former professor for a drink. Her only explanation was that he really looked like he could use one.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly. She glanced at him.

"What for?"

"For… well, for unloading that on you. You shouldn't have to hear about shite like that."

"I'm an Auror, Professor. If I didn't want to hear about shite like that, I would have applied to be a waitress at Madam Puddifoot's."

Lupin let out a strangled bark of laughter.

"I cannot imagine a worse job for you. All that crockery. You would interrupt so many romantic moments with projectile teacups."

Tonks sniggered.

"I think most of the romantic moments in that shop could do with a projectile teacup or two," she replied. Lupin snorted.

"True," he said. "Regardless, I…"

He seemed to be struggling for words. Tonks guided him down a side road. She could already hear the noise of the pub in the distance.

"… I'm not looking for – for sympathy or anything. I know better than anyone that those bastards deserved what they got. So just forget that I said anything, alright?"

"Professor," Tonks said, stopping in her tracks. It took a moment for Lupin to stop as well. He turned to face her, grimacing.

"Please call me Remus. I'm not your Professor anymore."

"Fine, Remus," Tonks said, crossing her arms. "Look. You don't have to _pretend_. Not with me. You're allowed to mourn for people you cared about."

Lupin shifted on his feet, looking uncomfortable. Tonks finally let out a long sigh.

"Whiskey?" she asked. He nodded wordlessly, and they pushed their way into the pub.

Tonks always kept a good store of Muggle currency on hand for occasions such as this, and it wasn't long before they were wedged into a corner booth of the ancient pub, drinking triple shots of Scotch.

"Muggles are an odd bunch, but they do know their alcohol," Tonks said, sipping the brown liquid slowly.

"Mmm," was Lupin's only response. He threw his whiskey back with shocking speed. Tonks gaped at him. He held his hand out.

"Let me show you a trick," he said. "Throw me a few quid."

He was obviously used to Muggle currency. She placed her remaining three coins in his palm. He closed his fist, turned his hand around, and deposited ten new pound coins in a row on the table. She raised an eyebrow at him, but he looked unrepentant.

"That's illegal, you know," she said, unable to keep the laughter out of her voice. He gave her a crooked smile.

"The Wizengamot really shouldn't have pardoned me," he said, before heading to the bar for another drink. She shook her head, smiling as she took another sip of whiskey.

Thirty seconds later, another triple shot appeared in front of her. Lupin was sliding back into his seat across from her, a beer now in front of him. She spluttered.

"I'm not even halfway through this!" she said, gesturing to her first drink. "And that's not fair – you can't switch to beer and give me another triple, are you trying to get me drunk?"

"Yes," Lupin said bluntly. "But don't worry, I'm trying to get drunk too. I had another whiskey at the bar, I'm just waiting for you to catch up."

Tonks glared at him. If he wanted a drinking contest, she would give him one. She downed the rest of her glass in one gulp. His face split into a broad grin.

"That's what I like to see," he said. Tonks coughed, her throat burning.

"You know - " she began, before coughing again. Lupin took a deep swig of his beer – some sort of porter, most likely – and looked at her intently. Tonks caught her breath and continued.

"You actually have a very nice smile, when you're not trying to scare people."

He let out a surprised bark of laughter.

"I don't _try_ to scare people. That's just what they're expecting."

"That is not true, and you know it," Tonks hiccupped, grasping her second glass of whiskey. "I saw you _growl_ at Rita Skeeter, and then grin like some sort of demented hobgoblin when she screamed."

Lupin cocked his head, confused.

"When was that?"

"My last year of Hogwarts. Your first year of teaching."

Lupin was obviously sifting through memories. Finally, his lips curled up in a faint smile.

"Oh yeah… But that's what I mean. She came there to try and dig up dirt so Dumbledore would be forced to fire me. She was going to tell everyone that I'm a bloodthirsty monster anyway, I might as well have fun with it."

"But she is far from the only person you've done that to. I think you enjoy it."

"Well… yeah. People don't change, Tonks. If they think I'm evil going into the conversation, then nothing I do is going to make any difference."

"That's a very defeatist attitude."

"Says the Metamorphmagus who makes a pig nose every time someone asks her to."

"That's different."

"How so? Everyone expects you to be the comic relief. After a while, didn't it just become easier to adopt that persona?"

Tonks had no response to this. She took another sip of whiskey.

"All I'm saying is that you actually seem like rather a nice person, underneath all the grouchiness."

Lupin inclined his head to her.

"I'm… glad you think so. You actually seem like rather a good Auror, underneath all the clumsiness."

"Oy!" she exclaimed, laughing despite herself. She tried to kick his shin underneath the table, but he dodged her foot. He was laughing again. She spared a moment to wonder whether she had ever seen him laugh before. She felt like she would have remembered it if she had.

"That coin trick was a pretty impressive bit of wandless magic," she said. "Where did you learn it?"

Lupin didn't answer right away, taking his time with a long swig of beer. Finally, he set his glass down and responded.

"My friend Vlad taught me. It's like leprechaun gold, it disappears after a few days. Otherwise he would have singlehandedly inflated the currency of Bulgaria."

"I take it he likes his booze."

"That's one way of putting it."

"Teach me?"

"I'd love to, but it's a bit risky in a Muggle pub. First time I tried it, I ended up with a hunk of molten metal burning a hole through the table. That would be rather difficult to explain here."

Tonks snorted.

"Fair enough. Looks like you're in charge of buying drinks from now on, then."

Lupin raised an eyebrow.

"Certain people at this table need to finish the drink that's in front of them before they start talking about more."

Taking his bait, Tonks downed her second whiskey.

"Bring it on, Professor," she said. Lupin glared at her.

"If you continue to insist on calling me Professor, then I'm afraid I'm going to have to start calling you – "

" _Don't you do it!_ "

" – Nympha – "

" _Don't you dare!_ "

"- dora!"

"Oh, you've done it now, mate."

"What are you having, Nymphadora? Beer? More whiskey?"

"I'm having your head on a spike if you continue to call me Nymphadora."

"Alright then – Dora. What'll it be?"

Tonks growled at him. He pointed a finger at her.

"See? Isn't it fun to growl at people? I'm getting you another whiskey."

He disappeared into the crowd. She sat there, torn between laughter and fury.

"Is anyone sitting here?"

A female voice rang out from above her. A Muggle girl and her boyfriend were pointing to the bench opposite Tonks that Remus had just vacated. Tonks looked around. The pub was packed. There was no place for the girl and her boyfriend to stand.

"No, go ahead," she said, gesturing them to sit down. Remus could just sit next to her.

The man in question returned a minute later. Taking the new situation in stride, he sat down next to Tonks and pushed a whiskey _and_ a beer towards her.

"I didn't know what you like, so I just got you a pale ale. Figured that was the safest bet."

"Works for me," Tonks said. "I would say thank you, but I know you're basically stealing these, so I'll just say… cheers."

They raised their glasses to each other. Tonks took a sip of whiskey, and looked up to find Remus examining her quizzically.

"What?" she asked.

"Why did you invite me here?" he asked. Tonks shrugged.

"You looked like you needed to unwind a bit, and that party clearly wasn't your speed."

"Why do you _care_ , though?"

"That's the second time you've asked me that tonight."

"Well, you still haven't given me a good answer."

"Do I need a reason? I know you think of yourself as some sort of – of – _pariah_ , but honestly you seem like a decent bloke to me."

"You don't know me very well."

"Does _anybody?_ "

Remus didn't answer. He suddenly seemed very interested in the contents of his glass. Tonks gazed at him for a long moment.

"Did they know you? The men who were Kissed tonight?"

Remus looked up at her, swallowed, and nodded slowly.

"Yes. They knew me."

He sighed, running a hand through his greying brown hair. Tonks didn't say anything. She simply sat there, waiting for him to say more. Because she knew that he _needed_ to say more.

With a subtle wave of his hand, Remus cast a Muffling Charm around them. Tonks could understand why. Their conversation was bound to seem odd to Muggle ears. She watched as Remus took another swig of whiskey, fortifying himself. He looked up at her, and she noticed that he was clenching and unclenching his free hand.

"I grew up with some of those men," he said softly. "We were children together, in the packs. They were just like me – running scared, looking for anything or any _one_ that would protect them. Becoming a Reaper was the best thing that could happen to a kid in a pack. It got you off the street, it gave you somewhere to _belong_ , somewhere you didn't have to kill for every scrap of food."

He finished his whiskey, and immediately reached for the beer. Tonks could already feel the hangover she would have tomorrow morning. Something told her this would be worth it, though.

"Voldemort was a fucking evil bastard, but he certainly knew how to motivate his people," Remus continued. "We were young, desperate, hungry. Most of us had real families who didn't want us anymore, because of what we were. Voldemort hand-picked the strongest and most talented, and turned us into killing machines. We would have done _anything_ for him. _I…_ I would have done anything for him."

Remus trailed off, lost in memories. Tonks reached out tentatively, resting a hand on his knee.

"What changed?"

He turned to look at her.

"Clearly something changed, or you never would have contacted Dumbledore."

Remus gave her a wan smile.

"Yes, something did change. But that's a story for another night."

Silence fell between them. But it wasn't awkward, like it was before. They both sipped on their beers. Tonks finally realized her hand was still on Lupin's knee. She was about to let it fall when she felt the touch of his calloused fingers. He was exploring her skin absentmindedly, tracing her fingers and veins with a featherlight touch. He picked her hand up, stroking her palm with his thumb. Then, to her complete and utter shock, he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. She drew in a single, sharp gasp.

Suddenly, Remus returned to planet Earth. He dropped her hand like it had burned him, and looked up at her with wide, fearful eyes. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. The pair just gaped at each other for a long, painful moment. And then he scooted backwards, practically falling out of the booth.

"I – I'm sorry Miss Tonks, that – that will never happen again," he said quickly, before practically running out the door. Tonks sat, stunned, for a single second. And then she was on her feet and racing out the door too.

" _Wait!_ " she cried, running down the dark street after him. There was no way he couldn't hear her, and yet he didn't stop walking, his back rigid and his fists clenched. She was getting very tired of running after him.

"Goddammit Remus, _stop!_ " she cried, finally grabbing his forearm and pulling him back to look at her. He refused to meet her gaze, his eyes covered by sandy brown fringe as he stared at the ground.

"What the hell was that all about?" she demanded, still holding him tightly. She didn't put it past him to Apparate right here in the middle of the street, if it meant escaping this awkward situation. At least if she was holding onto him, he couldn't leave her behind.

"Please let me go, Miss Tonks."

" _Miss Tonks_? I thought you'd decided to play with fire and refer to me as _Dora_. You know my _dad_ is the only one who calls me that, right?"

"Yes."

The blunt answer took her aback.

"…wait. What?"

"I know your father calls you that, Dora."

Now Tonks was _really_ confused.

" _What?_ How the hell do you know that?"

Remus ran a shaking hand down his face, then pulled her into a nearby alley.

"Look, you… you asked what happened to make me change, to make me contact Dumbledore."

"… yeah…"

"Well… _you_ happened."

"What are you _talking_ about?"

"I met you outside Diagon Alley when you were four years old. I was fourteen. I was there to spy for Voldemort, to try and track the Order's movements. I was posing as a homeless bum, across the street from the Leaky Cauldron."

Tonks stared at Lupin incredulously. This couldn't be real. Could it?

"Nobody else gave me the time of day," Lupin continued. "The Muggles thought I was some weird, drugged out teenager wearing gold contacts, and the wizards knew what I was from a mile away. I liked it that way. Nobody bothered me, they were all too scared. Until you came along."

His words were stirring uncomfortable memories in Tonks's mind.

"You walked right up and told me I looked sad. You handed me a chocolate frog, as though that was the solution for sadness. Then you asked what my name was."

"You said you didn't have a name."

Remus paused, looking up at Tonks in shock. She met his gaze steadily.

"You said you didn't have a name, and I told you that I liked your eyes. Then I made my eyes match yours."

Remus swallowed thickly and nodded. He seemed unable to speak.

"Then my dad saw me and called out my name. He hauled me away from you, and my mother yelled at me that night about not talking to strangers."

"I'm sorry," Remus whispered. Tonks snorted.

"Don't be, she's always yelling at me about something. But are you serious? _That's_ what made you turn?"

Remus ducked his head, staring at the ground yet again.

"A week later, Voldemort planned an attack on Diagon Alley. I couldn't… I couldn't help but think that you might be there. That I might see a little pink-haired body among the dead."

He looked back up at her, and for a moment she caught a glimpse of the desperate boy he must have been. His eyes were hard, determined, fierce, _frightening_.

"I couldn't let that happen," he growled. "So I sold out everyone I'd ever known, everyone I'd ever loved. Because none of them – not a _single one of them_ – had ever given me affection without expecting something in return. You showed me, in thirty seconds, what it meant to be human. You made me believe that _I_ could be human, too."

They stood there in the dark for several minutes, just staring at each other. Finally, unable to bear the silence anymore, Tonks asked, "So all those times you asked me why I care… that wasn't just referring to tonight, was it?"

"No," he said quietly. "No, Dora, you never cease to amaze me. When I saw you at Hogwarts, as vibrant and kind as you had been at four years old, but fully grown and _beautiful_ …"

Tonks snorted. She was many things, but beautiful was not one of them. Lupin furrowed his brows.

"You _are_ beautiful, Dora," he insisted. "Always. Even with a pig nose."

She stared up at him, searching his golden eyes intently. She opened her mouth, but was spared the necessity of coming up with a suitable response, because Sirius's Patronus chose that moment to appear. The giant, glowing blue dog bounded up to them, panting. Her cousin's voice echoed in the deserted alleyway.

"Tonks, are you with Remus? Get that idiot back to Grimmauld Place, pronto. Beast Division is out looking for him. Someone saw him at the Ministry, they know he was a witness. If they find him, they'll kill him. Get to Grimmauld, _now_."

With that, the Patronus dog dissipated. Tonks and Lupin looked at each other.

"You heard the man," she said. "Grimmauld Place it is."

"Dora, I can't put you all at risk because of this. I can take care of myself."

"Would you stop being an idiot?" Tonks said, exasperated. "Beast Division is not about to break into Sirius Black's house to murder a war hero. They're hoping to shank you down some back alley. Much like the one we're currently standing in, so if you don't mind, I'm ready to call the Knight Bus."

Apparating was not an option in their current state. They were both drunk enough that splinching was a real possibility. So Tonks marched to the side of the road and stuck her wand out. Remus followed, and when he reached her side she looked up to see his mouth twitching with suppressed laughter.

"Did you just use the word ' _shank_ '?" he asked. She glared at him.

"Yeah, so?"

He shook his head.

"Nothing. You've clearly just been watching too many Muggle crime shows."

The Knight Bus arrived with a _BANG!_ Stan Shunpike jumped down the steps and opened the door for them.

"Tonks!" he cried happily. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Wotcher Stan," Tonks said, not really in the mood for pleasantries on the curb. She started forward, but stopped at the look on Stan's face. He had caught sight of Remus, and was now staring at the man with blatant terror in his eyes.

Stan Shunpike was a year above Tonks at Hogwarts. After graduation, he had immediately started working on the Knight Bus. Hence, he had never encountered Remus Lupin before. It was obvious.

"H- hello Mr. Lupin, sir," he said, his voice trembling. Remus shot Tonks an exasperated glance.

"I'm not going to hurt you, son," he growled. "We just need a ride."

"Y- yes, sir!" Stan said. "Right this way, sir!"

With that, the young man bounded up the steps, not even bothering to conceal his hurry to get away from the famous ex-Reaper. Tonks looked at Remus, her lips quirking in amusement. He glared at her.

"I'm sorry, it's just… I'm starting to understand why you fuck with people sometimes. Even when you _don't_ , they're terrified of you."

"It gets old after a while," he muttered. "Shall we?"

They climbed the stairs onto the bus, and Tonks gave the driver an address down the road from Sirius's house. Tonks and Remus then took a seat on one of the many beds that lined the walls. It was nearing midnight on a Thursday, and while Muggle London seemed to be hopping, Wizarding London was decidedly less busy. There were only two other people on the bus, and they were fast asleep on their own beds. Stan informed Tonks that they were aboard for longer journeys, and that unless there was another call, the bus should be at her stop in just a few minutes. The young man was now ignoring Remus entirely, which seemed to suit the werewolf just fine.

The bus set off with a jolt. Tonks grabbed the bedspread, struggling to keep her seat. The Knight Bus was not her favorite mode of transportation. Not even a minute passed before they stopped with an even bigger jolt. Tonks put her hands out, searching for anything that would keep her from reuniting painfully with the floor. Her left hand found Remus's thigh. She felt his right arm snake around her middle and pull her back onto the bed.

"We're not at your stop yet, Tonks!" Stan yelled from the front. "Someone else hailed us, give us a minute!"

Neither she nor Remus replied. Remus's arm was warm around her back, and she could feel the muscles of his leg tensing under her grip. She looked up to find that his face was very close to hers – so close that she could feel his breath on her lips.

"Hem hem."

It was as though Remus had been hit by an electric shock. He was on his feet, wand out, body between Tonks and whoever had just boarded the bus. She jumped to her feet as well, drawing her wand. But Remus's hand kept her behind him.

"Not very smart, Reaper," a female voice simpered. Tonks tried to peer around Remus, but he pinned her to his back.

"Did you forget about the tracking spell?" the simpering voice continued. "We were informed the second you stepped foot on this bus. Your movements on Ministry transport systems are tracked, by order of the Wizengamot. You may have been pardoned, but that doesn't mean anyone _trusts_ you."

Pressed up against Remus's back, Tonks could feel the muscles in his body tightening, his stance lowering, like a wound up spring about to explode.

"Drop your wand, Reaper" the woman ordered. "Come quietly, and I'll think about letting the girl go with only a modified memory."

"Leave her alone, Umbridge. She has nothing to do with this."

 _Umbridge_. The Head of Beast Division. Tonks had never met her, but she had heard many stories about her – none of them good.

"Oh really?" Umbridge replied. "It certainly looks like you two are… _friendly_. Is that another charge for me to put on your record – fraternizing with an underage student?"

With a snarl, Tonks wrenched herself free from Remus's grip and stepped out from behind him, brandishing her wand at the toad-like woman before her. Umbridge was wearing a fluffy pink kitten jumper, and Tonks trained her wand directly on the kitten's face.

"I am neither underage, nor am I his student, Umbridge," she spat. "So if we want to _fraternize_ , it's really none of your business! Now get off this bus before I burn a hole through that kitten on your chest."

"Dora, please, get behind me – "

"Shut up, Remus."

To be fair, now that she could see, Tonks could understand Remus's desire to shield her. Half a dozen burly men had filed onto the bus after Umbridge, armed to the teeth and wearing the unmistakable uniform of the Werewolf Capture Unit. Tonks's heart sank. This did not look good.

Umbridge nodded to the men behind her, and they took the cue to raise their guns. Tonks was willing to bet that they were loaded with silver bullets.

"This is your last warning," Umbridge said. "Drop. Your. Wands."

Tonks heard Remus's wand clatter to floor next to her. Then his hand was on her outstretched wrist.

" _Please, Dora_ ," he whispered in her ear. His chest pressed against her side, and she felt his remarkably steady heartbeat. "Put it down. I can't let you get hurt because of me. _Please._ "

Slowly, reluctantly, she lowered her wand. Umbridge's smile was sickeningly sweet.

"Now drop it, my dear."

Despair twisting in the pit of her stomach, Tonks let her wand fall to the floor.

"What _exactly_ are you charging him with?" she snarled. "He hasn't done anything wrong. You have no right to take him."

"Oh, I think the Wizengamot will see it my way," Umbridge said. "After all, this werewolf went mad, and attacked the occupants of the Knight Bus! And _raped_ an innocent young girl! We had no choice but to take him into custody!"

"But that's not _true_!" Tonks cried. "None of it!"

"It will be. _You_ will testify to it," Umbridge promised, smiling. "Boys, cuff the Reaper and take him back to the cells."

Tonks watched helplessly as two of the largest men stepped forward.

"No – " she protested, grabbing Remus by the hand. "No, you're not taking him."

But she was roughly pushed aside, her grip on Remus broken.

"Tonks, don't fight them – "

"But she's going to make me think that you _raped_ me! I can't let her do that, you would _never_ – "

"Wouldn't he?" Umbridge interjected. "With a track record like yours, Lupin, I don't think it would take much imagination for the Wizengamot _and_ the general public to believe a story like that. So no one will be terribly upset about a little _accident_ with a Dementor in the Beast Division cells."

Umbridge smiled, rubbing her hands together gleefully.

"The last of the Reapers, all gone at the same time. The wizarding world might very well declare a holiday."

"You _foul_ little _toad!_ " Tonks snarled. She'd had far too much whiskey to control the rage that was now coursing through her. She dove for her wand, intent on wiping the smirk off Umbridge's face once and for all.

"Dora, _no!_ " she heard Remus scream to her left. She heard a scuffle, but her hand was already around her wand –

A body slammed into her, and a deafening blast echoed through the Knight Bus, almost bursting her eardrums. She flew backwards, sliding along the floor of the bus until she came to rest near the stairs. For a single, strange moment, she came face to face with a terrified Stan Shunpike, who was cowering near the door.

She looked back. What the hell had happened?

Remus lay on the ground where she had been only seconds before. One of his captors stood over him, gun in hand. The inner wall of the Knight Bus was covered in a sickening spray of blood. Tonks just gaped, unable to process what her eyes were telling her. Remus tried to lift himself onto his elbows, but the man above him stepped on his shoulder, pushing him back into the bloodstained floor.

"It's not fatal, marm," the WCU man said, examining Lupin's wound.

"Pity," Umbridge said. "Ah well, another soul for the Dementors."

Umbridge continued to speak, but Tonks was distracted by a hand on her arm. She turned to see Stan frantically gesturing to her.

"Come _on_!" he whispered. "Let's get out of here!"

She opened her mouth to tell him that she couldn't just _run away_ , she couldn't leave Remus with these monsters – but then her rational mind took hold. She couldn't save him, not without help. If she stayed, she would only end up Obliviated, with horrible, manufactured memories of the man who had probably just saved her life.

Tonks took one last, desperate look at Remus, bleeding on the floor at Umbridge's feet. The Beast Division had momentarily forgotten about her. She crawled silently down the steps and sprinted after Stan down the dark London streets.

They had been running for mere seconds before she heard shouts behind her.

"The _girl!_ "

"They're getting away!"

" _Stupefy!_ "

" _Protego!_ " she cried, throwing up a shield behind her and Stan. At least she had managed to get her wand back.

Heavy footsteps pounded behind them. Tonks looked over at Stan, who glanced back at her, clearly terrified.

"Do you trust me?" she asked. He nodded immediately.

"Take my hand!" she cried. He grabbed it, and she Apparated.

 _Here's hoping I'm not still drunk,_ she thought to herself as they twisted through space.

They landed hard on the pavement outside the Black family home.

" _Fuck!_ " Tonks cried. Her arm was on fire. Looking down, she saw the tell-tale sign of splinching – a spiraling gash running down her right forearm. Desperately, she looked over at Stan.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded.

"Yeah, thanks to you."

She had no time to worry about the blood dripping from her fingertips.

"Come on," she said, stumbling to her feet and fumbling in her pockets for her keys. They crashed through the front door, and were immediately accosted by James, Lily, and Sirius.

"Where's Remus – "

"Tonks, what happened to your arm?"

"Who's _this_ guy?"

"Cuz, you smell like a whiskey distillery – "

"Where have you _been_ – "

" _Where is Remus?!_ "

James Potter's voice rang out above the ruckus, repeating his initial question. Tonks turned to him desperately.

"They have him. Umbridge and the others. We were taking the Knight Bus here, because we were too drunk to Apparate."

At this, she gestured helplessly to her mangled arm, as if to prove her point.

"I guess they're notified every time he uses public transportation – something about a court order, I don't know. Doesn't matter. Umbridge found us, and Remus got shot."

" _What?_ "

"Is he alive?"

"Where are they taking him?"

"They're taking him to the cells, with the rest of the Reapers," Tonks replied. "At least, that was their plan before I escaped. Please – we have to stop them. They're going to let the Dementors at him, just like the others!"

Lily Potter was rolling up Tonks's sleeve to examine her wound. Tonks pulled away from her.

"There's no _time!_ " she cried. "We have to go _now_ , or it'll be too late!"

"But you escaped, Tonksy," Sirius said quietly. He must have taken a sobering potion, for he was no longer swaying on his feet. She turned to look at him, confused.

"Yeah…"

"Umbridge won't bring Remus back to the Ministry, now that she knows you're calling in the cavalry."

Tonks stared at him, the pit dropping out of her stomach. No, no, no, no, _no_ …

"What are you saying?" she whispered. Sirius grimaced.

"Tonks… she's probably already dumped him off some cliff in Norway."

There was a horrible silence. Finally, Tonks collapsed in a chair, shaking uncontrollably.

"No," she said, shaking her head defiantly. "No, it can't just be over like that, it _can't_."

Nobody spoke for a long moment. Poor Stan shifted awkwardly in the doorway, looking lost and out of place in the morbid scene.

"I'm sorry, Tonks," James finally said sadly, kneeling down in front of her and resting a hand on her knee. "But… but you escaped with your memory intact, you'll be able to testify against her. She's gotten away with so many terrible things because of her damn memory charms, but this will be the _last_ of it. Remus's death won't be in vain – "

" _What the fuck is wrong with you?!_ "

Tonks stared up at him with contempt. She was shaking with rage.

"How can you just give up on him like that?" she demanded. "How can you just accept that he's dead?!"

"Tonks, we're just as upset as you are – "

"You sure as hell don't act like it!" she cried, stumbling back to her feet. "I'm sorry, but I'm not ready to give up. He might still be alive, and I'm going to find him – with or without your help."

She pushed her way back to the front door, ignoring the unpleasant sensation of blood trickling down her arm. There was no time to fix her Splinch, she needed to find Remus, she needed to save him –

She pulled open the door, and almost screamed.

Remus stood on the doorstep, covered in blood. His fist was raised to knock, and Tonks's sudden appearance was clearly as surprising to him as his was to her. His gaze dropped immediately to her wounded arm.

"What happened?" he demanded, a surprising amount of panic in his voice. She just gaped at him.

"You're – you're…"

"Did you Splinch yourself?" he asked, ignoring the crowd of people now gathering in the doorway behind Tonks to gawp at him. Unable to make a sound, Tonks just nodded. Remus snorted, eyeing the wound critically.

"To be fair, you did have quite a lot of whiskey."

Tonks launched forward, intending to wrap her arms around the insufferable man and never let go. But Remus stumbled backward, holding a hand out to keep her away.

"Oy!" he exclaimed, gesturing to his bloody clothing. "You want lycanthropy too?!"

Breathing deeply, Tonks managed to reign in her emotions.

"Where's Umbridge? What happened?"

Remus stuck his thumb over his shoulder. She followed the gesture to see the Knight Bus parked on the corner of Grimmauld Place.

"She's tied up in there, along with her goons," Remus said. "Once you were safely off the bus, I could afford to be a little more… _aggressive_."

"You beat up Umbridge and half a dozen armed guards with a bullet in your shoulder?" Tonks asked incredulously. Remus shrugged, then immediately looked like he regretted the movement.

" _Beat up_ is a strong phrase," he said. "Incapacitated is more accurate. And technically the bullet isn't in my shoulder, it's buried in the wall of the Knight Bus somewhere. I think your friend Stan has his work cut out for him, cleaning all the werewolf blood off the upholstery."

Tonks stared at him incredulously.

"Get in here, you lunatic," she said, gesturing him inside. He gave her a crooked, exhausted smile, and complied.

"Oh, Lily," he said to the red-haired woman as he passed her in the hallway. "You might want to call someone at St. Mungo's and get them to bring over some Skele-gro."

" _Skele-gro?_ "

"One of those wankers tried to shoot Tonks. I can't be sure, but the last time I broke someone's arm like that, it was shattered in about seven places."

* * *

Two days later, Dolores Umbridge was put on trial in front of the Wizengamot, charged with Soul Snatching. Both Tonks and Remus were called to testify in front of a huge courtroom filled with Ministry officials, reporters, and curious members of the public. The trial was a media sensation, broadcast live around the globe on the Wizarding Wireless. Tonks didn't know how the rest of the world reacted when Umbridge was found guilty, but she for one was relieved. There were several tense moments during the trial when she had despaired of the Wizengamot's ability to see beyond the fact that the victims were Reapers.

In the end, though, justice prevailed, and Umbridge would be spending the rest of her life in Azkaban. Even though the prison was no longer guarded by Dementors, it was far from a pleasant place to spend one's final years. Tonks found herself unable to feel the least bit sorry for the woman.

She found Remus after the trial, snarling at a Daily Prophet reporter who was trying to interview him. She watched the poor man hurry away, a smile playing at her lips.

"Charming as ever, I see," she teased. Remus glared at her.

"Little bastard just wanted a sob story. I don't need anyone's _pity_."

"What do you need, Remus Lupin?"

He looked at her, one eyebrow raised.

"And if you ask me why I care again, then I swear – "

"I wouldn't say no to another drink sometime."

Tonks halted mid-sentence, her mouth wide open in shock. The moment stretched on, and Lupin began to look uncomfortable.

"I mean, only if you want to," he said, shifting on his feet. "I feel like our last trip to the pub ended a little… prematurely."

Tonks's lips were slowly spreading into a grin.

"I'd love nothing better."

Remus smiled – a true, genuine smile. Tonks was about to throw caution to the wind and hug him right there in front of everyone, when a young Beast Division employee interrupted them.

"Professor – I mean, Mr. Lupin, sir, could I have a moment?"

They turned to the young man. Tonks vaguely recognized him. He might have been a Slytherin in the year below her, but she couldn't be sure. Remus, on the other hand, greeted him immediately.

"Mr. Mulligan, what can I do for you?"

The young man looked extremely nervous, but he took a deep breath and soldiered on bravely.

"We're, um… well, we're about to transport the Reapers to a facility up north. They'll be well looked after, sir!" he exclaimed, seeing a scowl forming on his former teacher's face. "But we… well, we need your signature in order to do it."

" _My_ signature? Why?"

"Someone put you down as their next of kin."

" _What?_ "

Mr. Mulligan – _Neil, maybe,_ Tonks thought to herself – pulled a roll of parchment out of his pocket and handed it to Remus.

"It's one of the forms the Reapers filled out when you first brought them in and filed charges. Out of the seven of them, only one person actually wrote anything useful – the rest just put down a wide variety of colorful insults."

Remus snorted, smiling despite himself. He unrolled the parchment, scanned it, and froze, his eyes wide.

"This man Vladimir obviously still cared about you, sir," Mulligan said softly. Tonks's stomach clenched. _Vladimir?_

She stepped around to Remus's side, putting a hand on his forearm as she read the parchment as well. It was a standard Ministry form – name, date of birth, marital status, address, occupation… Most of these lines were left blank, but the name _Vladimir Sokolov_ was written at the top in messy script. From the date of birth, Tonks calculated that the man had been 45 years old. And there at the bottom, the next of kin was clear – _Remus Lupin_. In the blank space underneath the line, Vladimir had written something else.

_I forgive you, kid._

Remus looked up at Mulligan, his hands shaking.

"Can I see him?"

Mulligan looked uncomfortable.

"I… I really wouldn't recommend that, sir. There's nothing left of them, they're just… shells."

"I know that, Neil. But I… I have to say goodbye. I'll sign your form while I'm down there."

Neil hesitated, hazel eyes examining his former teacher. After a moment, he nodded.

"Alright. I'll bring you to them. And sir?"

"Yes?"

"They will be well looked after. I give you my word. Not everyone in Beast Division was in Umbridge's pocket."

Remus nodded, reaching out and grasping the younger man's shoulder.

"I know, Neil. Thank you."

Neil turned to lead Remus down to the cells. Remus turned to Tonks.

"Do you want me to come with you?" she asked. He shook his head.

"I have to do this on my own," he said gruffly. "Hold onto this for me, will you?"

He pressed the roll of parchment into her hand. She put it in her pocket.

"I'll wait for you at the Atrium fountain. We can go for that drink."

He nodded wordlessly, then followed Mulligan towards Beast Division.

Tonks wandered to the fountain and sat down, feeling numb. James, Sirius, and Lily soon joined her.

"Where's Remus?" Sirius asked. "Avoiding Skeeter like the plague?"

Tonks didn't even crack a smile.

"He's down in the cells saying goodbye to the Reapers.

"Oh," Sirius responded awkwardly. "Um… are you waiting for him?"

"Yes."

"Right. Well, we'll wait for him too."

They waited. Fifteen minutes passed. The Atrium slowly emptied as the Wizengamot, reporters, and members of the public dissipated. Soon things were back to normal, Ministry employees bustling back and forth in the course of everyday work.

Finally, after what felt like an age, Tonks saw Remus walking back across the Atrium towards them. Neil was with him, looking haunted. As they approached, Tonks rose, her hands twisting together. Remus's normal stoic mask was firmly in place, his mouth pulled into a thin, angry line.

"… are you alright?" she asked quietly. His eyes rose to meet hers, and for a long moment he just stared at her, searching her face for… something. Then his gaze faltered. He took a long, shuddering breath.

"No," he whispered, and she saw his face twist. "No, I'm not."

Tonks didn't hesitate. She stepped forward and pulled him into her arms, wrapping herself around his shaking body. This time, he accepted her embrace immediately, pulling her to his chest and burying his face in her shoulder. Barely a second later, she felt his chest heave as he began to cry. He was quite a bit taller than she was, and Tonks felt her feet leaving the floor as he held her to him with all of his considerable strength.

They stood like that for several minutes, the ex-Reaper's gasping breaths the only sound the small group of people could hear. Tonks felt hot tears running down the side of her neck where Remus was pressing into her. Her whole body moved with every heave of his chest. She rubbed the nape of his neck in slow, soothing circles, her eyes tightly closed to hold back her own tears.

Gradually, he began to calm down. His sobs slowed, then stopped. Tonks felt her feet touch the floor again, but still he stood, his arms around her, his face buried in her shoulder. She felt his body shudder as he tried desperately to control his breathing. She turned and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Stubble rasped against her lips, and she heard his breath hitch. She pulled back. His eyes were closed, and his face was wet with tears.

"See?" she whispered. He opened bloodshot golden eyes, searching her face desperately. She managed to summon a smile for him.

"You _are_ human, Remus Lupin. You always have been."


	2. Chapter 2

"What's your favorite color?"

"… seriously?"

Remus's voice could have withered a bouquet of flowers. The streetlamp at the head of the alley cast just enough light so Tonks could see him arching an unamused eyebrow at her. She sniffed primly.

"What, you just want to sit here in complete silence?"

"It's a stakeout, Tonks. It's not supposed to fun."

"Doesn't have to be horribly boring, either," she countered. "The meeting isn't for another hour, why did we get here so early?"

Remus just looked at her, and she let out a frustrated sigh.

"Yeah yeah," she grumbled, "'better to be early and bored, than late and dead'. I remember. Honestly, Stealth and Tracking was my least favorite class."

"Really? I never would have guessed."

She glared at the sarcastic werewolf.

"You're in a mood tonight, aren't you?" she said, before shrugging. "'Spose it is your time of the month, I should cut you some slack."

He rolled his eyes, but didn't respond. She sighed, leaning her head back against the brick wall behind them. They were sitting behind a row of rubbish bins in an alleyway in north Manchester. The Auror Office had received a tip about dragon egg smugglers in the area, and Moody had sent Lupin and Tonks to investigate.

"D'you think they're actually going to show up?" Tonks asked the man sitting next to her. He shrugged.

"Dunno. It was an anonymous tip, could be a trap."

"Ooh, I hope so," she said, tightening her hand on her wand. "Moody's had me writing reports for the last month, I'm ready for some excitement."

Remus snorted.

"I for one hope they don't show," he muttered. Something in his tone caught Tonks's attention, and she shot him a concerned look.

"You alright?"

"Fine," he said automatically, his eyes closed. She just glared at him silently for several moments. He finally opened his eyes and – seeing that she was not going to drop the subject – sighed wearily.

"I feel like shit," he said bluntly. "Everything hurts."

Tonks nodded seriously.

"Yeah, having every bone and muscle in your body twist into the shape of a wolf must sting a bit."

He let out a huff of laughter, shifting against the wall to try and get more comfortable. He settled down again with a pained grimace.

"Just a bit."

He turned his gaze to her. The glow of the streetlamp washed out his golden eyes, and for a moment they just looked light brown.

"You could have taken tonight off, you know," she said. "I'm sure Moody would have understood. I'm actually surprised he assigned you to this mission at all, considering."

Remus scoffed, shaking his head.

"Moody doesn't keep track of the moon cycle," he said. "And I don't want him to. He's one of the few people at the Ministry who doesn't treat me like a bomb waiting to go off."

"Remus," Tonks said, the corner of her mouth twitching, "you made a Wizengamot Scribe wet himself yesterday. People treat you like that for a reason."

Remus's brow furrowed, and he shot her a confused look.

"What? Who wet himself?"

"Humphrey Beauregard, the little man who takes notes during interrogations. He tried to ask you something after you finished questioning that suspected paedophile, and you all but bit his head off."

Remus stared off into the distance for a while, then shook his head.

"I don't remember that at all," he muttered. "I just remember wanting to punch a hole through that paedo's face."

" _Suspected_ paedo, you don't know for sure – "

"Oh, he did it, Tonks."

"How do you know?"

Remus grimaced.

"I just do, alright?"

"That'll stand up well in court. ' _I just know, Chief Warlock'_."

Remus glared at her.

"Is it _your_ time of the month too?"

She laughed.

"No, I just like taking the piss out of you."

The man snorted, once more shifting against the brick wall behind him. He drew a sharp breath in through his teeth, and Tonks looked down to see that he was clutching his side with one hand.

Tonks had known Remus Lupin for six years now. But a month ago, she wouldn't have dared to attempt what she now did without hesitation. She reached down, tugging at the hem of the man's tattered jumper. He held it down stubbornly, shooting her a dirty look.

"Oy," she protested. "Let me look at it, you big lump. You're my partner, I need to know you're fit enough to back me up in a fight."

"Oh come on, Tonks," he groaned. "I've killed Death Eaters when I was in worse shape than this."

"Yeah, when you were a _teenager_ ," she countered. "Now you're an old man. Let me take a look."

He finally relented, letting her pull his jumper and shirt up over his ribs.

"You have the worst bedside manner ever," he said as she examined the massive bruise that stretched up his entire right side. "I just feel insulted right now."

"I'm an Auror, not a doctor, Remus," Tonks said absently.

"Whatever you say, Bones."

"What?"

"Never mind. Muggle reference. Only us old men would understand."

Tonks was gently prodding at Remus's ribs. A distant part of her brain was noticing how fit he was, storing a mental image of the pronounced muscles on his chest for later enjoyment.

"One of your ribs is cracked, no wonder you're in pain," she said. "How did this even happen?"

Remus shrugged.

"I didn't have Wolfsbane last night, Sev couldn't get enough aconite. I transformed in a cell in the dungeons, don't remember most of it."

Tonks gaped at him, unable to come up with any sort of reply. He glanced down at her, a small smile on his lips.

"I'll heal quickly, Miss Tonks, don't worry," he said. "One of the perks of being a werewolf. This'll be sorted by tomorrow."

Tonks set her jaw.

"No, it will be sorted right now," she grunted, flicking her wand. " _Episkey!_ "

Remus sucked in a breath, then let it out again, running a tentative hand over his newly healed ribs. He looked at her, the smile on his face growing.

"You're good at that," he said. She raised an eyebrow.

"Don't sound so surprised," she said. "Being the clumsiest person in the world has its perks as well. I've done more than my fair share of healing spells."

He let his jumper fall back down and inclined his head to her.

"Thank you," he said quietly. She returned his smile.

"You're welcome. Any other injuries I should know about?"

He shook his head.

"No, that was the worst of it. I really should have healed it myself, but I've never been good at ribs. Usually just let them heal on their own."

"I broke two ribs once," Tonks reminisced, "during a Quidditch match. Charlie Weasley was going for the Snitch, and I body-checked him out of the way so our Seeker had a clear shot."

Remus snorted.

"I don't really understand Quidditch, but even _I_ know that's cheating."

"Oh definitely," Tonks said, laughing. "I was suspended for two games and Charlie wouldn't talk to me for a month. But we won the Quidditch Cup that year."

She grinned proudly at the man sitting next to her. He looked down at her, smiling despite himself.

"I don't know if I'll ever fully understand sports," he mused. "Seems like an awful lot of effort for something that doesn't matter."

Tonks gave a mock gasp.

"Doesn't _matter?_ " she repeated, horrified. "I don't know if I can work with such a blasphemer. Count me out of this mission."

She made to stand up, but Remus reached over and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back down with a chuckle on his lips. She glared at him.

"Have you ever actually _played_ Quidditch?" she asked. He shook his head.

"But you've been on a broom, right?"

He shook his head again, and Tonks's mouth fell open.

"How is that even possible?" she demanded. "How did you get around before you could Apparate?"

He raised his eyebrows.

"Nobody was particularly fussed about underage magic in the packs. Plus, we had thestrals."

"Oh right, what was I thinking. Of course you had thestrals."

"They're actually quite friendly creatures," Remus continued, ignoring her sarcasm, "despite their appearance."

"I'll take your word for it, I've only ever seen drawings of them."

Remus turned to her, eyebrows furrowed.

"Can you not see them?"

She shook her head.

"Haven't seen death yet, at least not right before my eyes." She grimaced. "I'm sure that will change soon, given my line of work."

"I hope not."

Tonks looked up to find Remus staring at her. He looked away quickly, turning his gaze to the rubbish bins in front of them.

"When did you first see them?" she asked, half dreading the answer. He didn't respond at first. He pulled his knees up and rested his elbows on them, dangling his hands in front of him like a marionette waiting for instructions.

"I've always been able to see them," he finally said. "Ever since I can remember."

Tonks didn't know how to respond to that. The pair sat in silence for several minutes, listening to the sound of Muggle Manchester all around them. Distant sirens and nearby shouting melded together with Punjabi pop music blaring from the windows of cars rolling by the alley. Almost ten minutes passed, and Tonks shivered involuntarily. While it hadn't yet snowed, mid-December was never a particularly good time of year to huddle on frozen concrete in northern England. Warming charms could only do so much, her butt was rapidly turning into a block of ice.

To her surprise, she felt Remus scooch closer to her and wrap a long arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. She looked up at him in shock.

"Never took you for the chivalrous type," she said through chattering teeth. He shrugged.

"Can't have you freezing on me, I need to know you're fit enough to back me up in a fight."

His eyes glinted mischievously at her as he echoed her earlier words. She chuckled, burrowing into his tattered grey jumper. He was surprisingly warm.

"D'you have a higher body temperature than us mere mortals?" she asked, blowing on her hands. "How are you only wearing a jumper?"

"Just used to it," he said, and she felt the rumble of his voice against her side. "Plus, I think my warming charms are better than yours."

There was even more mischief in his voice now, and she craned her neck to peer up at him suspiciously.

"If you're so confident in your warming charms, Mr. Lupin, why didn't you try one before cuddling up to me?"

He grinned, completely unrepentant.

"I think the operative word there is ' _cuddling_ '."

She shook her head, smiling despite herself.

"Typical man. Using cold weather as an excuse to get closer to a girl."

He quirked an eyebrow, still grinning.

"Worked, didn't it?"

She opened her mouth, but the familiar crack of Apparition echoed through the alley. Both Remus and Tonks jumped, raising their wands immediately to Disillusion themselves. Tonks glanced over to see that Remus was now all but invisible, blending into the dirty bricks behind him like a chameleon.

There was another crack, and Tonks craned her neck over the rubbish bins to see two men standing about ten metres down the alley. The light of the streetlamp barely penetrated the gloom, but it was enough to show her that one man was tall and broad, the other short and skinny.

"You're early," the big man grunted.

"So are you," the little man retorted, his voice quiet and rasping. "It's Friday. I'd rather be in the pub, if it's all the same to you. Shall we do business?"

Tonks pulled a small cylinder out of her pocket, and nudged Remus with her elbow. He nudged her back. It was time.

She placed the cylinder on the ground and pressed a button in its center. A dome of shimmering blue light erupted from it, projecting an anti-Apparition ward around the alleyway and its current occupants. It was a new piece of Auror tech, one that came in very handy in situations such as this.

The two smugglers cried out, brandishing their wands and lighting up the alleyway with curses. They couldn't see the Aurors, but that didn't stop them from doing damage. A blasting spell hit one of the rubbish bins, sending chunks of shredded metal into the wall where Tonks had been a second before. The scent of rotting garbage reached her nostrils, and she grimaced, continuing to make her way along the wall until she had a clear shot.

" _Stupefy!_ " she cried, and the bigger man dropped like a stone. Another stunning spell arched through the air, heading straight for the smaller man, but he twisted out of the way with the grace of a gymnast and brandished his wand in the direction from which the spell had come.

" _Revelio!_ " he cried, and suddenly Remus was no longer invisible. The werewolf ducked to avoid being decapitated by a particularly vicious blasting charm. The bricks behind him exploded, knocking him to the ground.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Tonks shouted, but the smuggler blocked her spell, casting his eyes about to try and see her.

"Drop your wand!" Tonks ordered. "It's over, mate. Come quietly, and the Wizengamot might knock a few years off your sentence."

Out of the corner of her eye, Tonks saw Remus get to his feet, shaking brick dust out of his hair. He, too, was holding the smuggler at wandpoint. The small man hesitated, staring at the dusty werewolf.

"You're Remus Lupin," he said, shifting on his feet. The werewolf rolled his eyes.

"Glad to know I'm famous even in the lowest circles of society," he quipped. "You gonna put your wand down, or not?"

The man dropped his wand unceremoniously. Tonks grinned, tapping the top of her head to remove the Disillusion.

"It's really quite handy being partners with the most feared man in Wizarding Britain," she said, winking at Remus. He sighed wearily, pulling a pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket. He twirled a finger at the smuggler.

"Turn around, mate," he said. "I have to put these on you."

The man obliged, holding his hands behind his back. Remus stepped forward.

"You are under arrest under suspicion of smuggling, blah blah, harm your defence, blah blah evidence."

Tonks burst into helpless laughter.

"That's not how it goes," she protested as Remus cuffed the smuggler.

"I can't be arsed right now," he grumbled. Tonks summoned the anti-Apparition device and turned it off. She reached down and grabbed the unconscious smuggler's wrist.

"Drinks at the Leaky after this?"

Remus nodded curtly, and they Apparated with their prisoners.

* * *

"Bloody hell, Tonks, you smell horrible."

"Thanks Charlie, I'm trying a new perfume – _eau de rubbish bin_."

Her red-haired friend snorted, taking a sip of his beer.

"Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not," she replied, trying to catch Tom's eye. She was getting the first round, and Remus was finding a free table – a challenging task at half seven on a Friday night.

"Great to see you, by the way," she said, punching Charlie's shoulder. "What brings you back to Old Blighty?"

"Come to collect some stolen dragon eggs," he said, puffing out his chest proudly. Tonks grinned. Charlie had wanted to work with dragons since before he could walk.

"And it's great to see you too, Tonks," he continued. "I'd give you a hug, but I don't think _eau de rubbish bin_ would complement my cologne."

Tonks gave a mock sigh.

"Your loss, mate," she said. "It's a very underappreciated scent, only the most fashionable women are wearing it."

She finally managed to catch Tom's attention, and ordered two triple shots of Scotch and two pints of bitter. Charlie eyed her drinks, raising an eyebrow.

"You going hard tonight, then?"

She laughed.

"They're not all for me," she explained. "I'm here with Remus."

He stared at her blankly for a moment.

"Remus… Lupin?"

"Yeah," she replied, nodding. "Speaking of which, we just arrested a pair of dragon egg smugglers. There are four Hungarian Horntail eggs sitting in lockup right now, make sure you collect them before you leave."

Charlie didn't respond. He was still staring at her, an odd expression on his face.

"You're here with Remus Lupin?" he repeated. She blinked at him.

"Is there a problem?" she asked, a note of warning in her voice. The red-haired man shifted uncomfortably.

"Erm, I mean…"

He grimaced, taking a swig of his beer.

"Tonks, you – you know what he did to my uncles, right?"

She returned his gaze steadily.

"Yes, I do. I also know he was only twelve when he did it. I don't think he had much of a choice."

Charlie looked unconvinced.

"Just… just be careful, alright?" he said quietly, staring down into his glass. "I don't want you to get hurt."

She cracked a smile.

"Don't worry, Charlie. I can take care of myself."

Her friend's lips tightened, and he looked up at her. He was clearly unhappy. She sighed.

"Mate, why don't you join us?" she asked, jerking her head in the direction Remus had gone. "I actually think you'd like him, if you gave him a chance."

He scoffed.

"Like that's ever going to happen," he said sarcastically. "He was a complete arse to me at Hogwarts, my younger siblings hate his guts."

"He's an arse to _everyone_ at Hogwarts," Tonks replied, laughing. "He's not there to make friends, he's there to teach people. And he does a pretty damn good job of it, you have to admit."

"No I don't," Charlie said stubbornly. "Do you have some sort of weird crush on him?"

Tonks blinked at her friend, taken aback.

"What?"

"You do, don't you?" he demanded. There was a flash of something like anger in his blue eyes. "You're attracted to him, that's why you're defending him."

Tonks narrowed her eyes at the red-haired man.

"I'm not _defending_ him Charlie, I am merely stating _facts_ ," she growled. "I don't have to be attracted to him to know that he's trying to be a good person."

" _Trying_ to be a good person, and actually _being_ one are two very different things," Charlie spat, glaring at her. "I don't care how young he was, he murdered my uncles in cold blood. He murdered _a lot_ of people in cold blood. That sort of thing fucks you up, Tonks. I don't think you should be hanging around with him."

"I agree."

Tonks jumped. The deep voice came from right behind her. She turned to find Remus standing with his hands in his pockets, a mild expression on his face. He glanced down at Tonks, then reached a long arm out to take one of the glasses of Scotch. He downed it in one go, sighing with satisfaction as he returned the glass to the bar. Charlie gaped at him.

"I completely agree with you, Mr. Weasley," Remus repeated. "I don't think Tonks should be hanging around with me either. But I also think that it's her decision, don't you?"

Charlie mouthed wordlessly for a moment before once again finding his voice.

"I think she finds you _interesting_ ," he spat. "I think she wants to _fix_ you, because that's what women do. But you're not fixable, are you Lupin?"

Tonks was staring at Charlie like he'd grown an extra head. She opened her mouth to unleash a furious retort, but Remus got there first.

"Charlie," the werewolf said calmly, stepping forward until he towered over the short, muscular man. "May I call you Charlie?"

"No," the red-haired man snarled.

"Well, Charlie," Remus continued blithely, "I can't believe I'm about to do this, but let me give you some advice on women."

"Oh please – " Charlie scoffed, but Remus soldiered on.

"When you have a crush on a girl," he said, grabbing his beer, "the shortest path to eternal loneliness is to imply that she's an idiot."

Charlie furrowed his brow.

"Wh – what?"

Remus sighed, then took a drink.

"I don't need fixing," he said calmly. "Tonks doesn't want to fix me. And we are not together. The only thing that little outburst accomplished is make us both annoyed with you."

With that, he turned, raising his eyebrows at Tonks as he wandered back towards the far corner. Tonks glared at Charlie for a moment before picking up her drinks.

"You're a real arse sometimes, Charlie Weasley," she said, then turned and followed Remus.

She found him in the darkest corner booth in the pub. She slid in across from him, letting out a long-suffering sigh.

"Sorry about that," she muttered. "Nice work getting a table, though."

"Wasn't that hard," he said, leaning back and putting his feet up on the bench next to her. "All I did was walk over, and the couple sitting here got up and left."

Tonks struggled to keep a straight face.

"Erm, that's uh… that's convenient."

He snorted.

"One of these days, people are going to realize that I'm not interested in committing random acts of violence," he said. "And then we'll have a lot more trouble finding places to sit in crowded pubs."

"Let's just keep that under wraps, then, shall we?" Tonks said, grinning. She raised her glass of whiskey.

"Cheers."

He raised his pint.

"To idiotic old friends who mean well."

They both drank. He returned his glass to the table, glaring down into it.

"Sorry I came over," he said, "I just realized you might need help carrying drinks. Didn't mean to interrupt."

Tonks shook her head.

"No, I'm glad you did," she said. "He was being an arse. I tried to invite him over to join us, but he refused."

Remus snorted.

"That would have been exceedingly awkward," he mused, taking another drink. "You know what I did to his uncles, right?"

Tonks rolled her eyes.

"Yes," she said, exasperation in her tone. "I know. I've read all your files."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Really? Even the classified ones?"

"Alright, not those. But all the rest. I read them before I went on my first mission with you. Just wanted to know what I was getting into."

He nodded.

"That's understandable," he said. "Though I feel like I'm at a disadvantage now. There aren't any equivalent files on _you_. How do I know you're not some… sociopath?"

She stared at him, stone faced.

"You caught me. I'm a cereal killer."

His lips quivered as he tried valiantly not to laugh.

"What's your specialty? Wheat? Rice?"

"Coco Pops, actually," she retorted. He lost the battle with laughter. She enjoyed the rare sight of his eyes crinkling up with mirth. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a table full of people turn and stare at him. She glanced over, and realized they had all been a few years behind her in Hufflepuff. Ignoring their flabbergasted faces, she turned back to Remus, sipping her whiskey slowly. He removed his feet from the bench next to her and leaned forward, looking at her intently.

"Those records don't exactly paint me in the best light," he said. "They're based on interviews that happened right after the War ended. I wasn't in my right mind. To be honest, I just wanted to die. So I told the Wizengamot all the worst things I'd done, and didn't provide any context whatsoever."

He paused, taking a deep swig of his beer before continuing.

"I was hoping they'd put me in Azkaban, and the Death Eaters would finish the job. Dumbledore put paid to that idea, though. He testified on my behalf, got me a pardon that I didn't want. It's only recently that I've realized how much I owe that old man."

He looked up from his glass to find Tonks staring at him. He blinked.

"What?"

She shook her head, letting out a shocked chuckle.

"Nothing, it's just… I don't think I've ever heard you put so many sentences together in one go."

He raised his eyebrows, smiling at her.

"It does happen occasionally, believe it or not."

She examined him thoughtfully.

"Why the sudden outpouring of information?"

He shrugged.

"I just… wanted you to know."

"Know what? That you're not as bloodthirsty and horrible as those files make you seem? I already knew that."

He stared at her for a long moment, searching her eyes. Finally, he swallowed, looking back down at the table.

"You're quite a woman, Dora. You know that, right?"

Tonks didn't know how to respond to that. She shifted her feet under the table, breath hitching when her foot met his. After a moment of hesitation, she rested the outside of her left foot against the inside of his right. She glanced up to find him staring at her, a heat in his eyes that she'd never seen before.

"Anyway," he said, clearing his throat. "Tell me more about Quidditch. What position did you play?"

Tonks smiled. He hadn't moved his foot.

"Beater," she replied, "though I didn't make the team until sixth year. Even then, it was a well-known fact that I was the worst player at school."

Remus furrowed his brow.

"Really? I find that hard to believe."

Tonks gave him a pointed look.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Lupin," she said, her mouth twitching. "Hand-eye coordination has never been my strong suit. I'm convinced Slade only let me on the team so I would stop bugging him about it."

"Slade?"

"Aloysius Slade, he was a year above me. I had a massive crush on him."

She stared off into the distance, reminiscing about Slade's rippling biceps. Remus snorted.

"Right then. What does this Slade bloke do now?"

Tonks shrugged.

"Dunno. Last I heard he was interning for some low-level politician in the European Confederation."

"Sounds… boring."

"Yeah, I can't say he was the most interesting boy I've ever met," Tonks admitted. "But those arms…"

She was staring off into space again. When she finally returned to planet earth, she found Remus silently laughing at her. She sniffed primly.

"Oh come on, like _you've_ never had a silly crush," she protested. He shrugged, taking a drink.

"Fair enough," he admitted. "I actually had a crush on your aunt for a while."

"Narcissa?" she asked, flabbergasted. He shook his head slowly, looking a bit wary. She gaped at him.

"You had a crush on Auntie Bella?" she hissed, before bursting into helpless laughter. "That's _horrifying_."

"Hey!" he protested, laughing. "She was actually quite nice looking, until she… y'know…"

"Went crazy?" Tonks finished, hiccupping. He grimaced.

"She taught me how to play Exploding Snap," he said quietly. "And she gave me my first drink. I was ready to propose marriage."

"At age eleven," Tonks pointed out, finishing her whiskey and moving on to her beer.

"Twelve," Remus corrected. "A _mature_ twelve, at that. I like to think we could have made it work."

Tonks stared at him for a long moment, unsure whether he was joking. He looked back at her, a twitching lip betraying his amusement. She shook her head.

"You're a strange man, Remus Lupin," she said, smirking. He grinned.

"I know."

Tonks leaned forward over her beer, choosing her next words carefully.

"Did you…"

She hesitated, and Remus quirked an eyebrow. Tonks sighed, then took a drink before continuing.

"Did you really mean what you said to Charlie?"

"That I don't need fixing?"

"No, the – the other bit. Do you really think I shouldn't be spending time with you?"

Remus examined her for a long moment.

"Would it make a difference if I said yes?" he finally said, his gaze unwavering. Tonks made a face.

"But why?" she demanded. "I don't care what Charlie or – or _anybody_ thinks! I enjoy your company, they can all go shove their wands up their arses for all I care."

Remus snorted into his beer. He took a drink, then put the glass on the table and looked at her intently.

"Normally, I would agree with you," he said. "But Dora, associating with me is already costing you friends."

Dora stared at him incredulously.

"What, you mean Charlie?" she asked, sticking a thumb over her shoulder. "I wouldn't worry about that, he'll come round."

Remus was shaking his head.

"'s not just Charlie," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I heard you talking to your mate Naïema the other day, too."

Tonks furrowed her brow. It was true – the two women had had a row after Tonks had tried to invite Remus to their table in the Ministry cafeteria. But Remus had been out the door and down the hallway by then.

"How did you – "

Remus tapped his left ear.

"Another mixed blessing from lycanthropy," he explained. "I hear a lot of things that aren't meant for my ears."

Tonks grimaced again. Her hand tightened on her pint glass.

"Regardless," she said, "that doesn't matter. Naïema will get over it. I think she'd really like you, if she gave you half a chance."

"I think you overestimate my desire to be liked," Remus said, smirking. "I honestly couldn't care less what your friends think of me."

"You care what _I_ think of you."

Remus's lips tightened, his gaze wavering.

"True," he admitted. "I don't know why, though."

"Really?" Tonks remarked, arching an eyebrow at him over her beer. "I do."

He stared at her, an uncharacteristically self-conscious expression on his face. He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"… erm…"

Tonks took pity on him.

"Anyway," she said, smiling, "the moral of the story is that I like going to the pub with you, and I intend to keep doing it."

Remus let out a huff of laughter, shaking his head.

"Well, you won't hear any arguments from me," he said, staring fixedly at the table. "I'm not nearly selfless enough to say that you should be talking to men your own age."

"You just did, though."

He inclined his head, still not looking at her.

"Just… letting you know that I would never hold it against you," he said quietly. "You don't owe me anything, Dora. And you'd likely have a much easier time of it if you got up right now and walked back to Charlie."

Tonks examined the man sitting across from her for a long moment. He was still avoiding her gaze, his arms crossed firmly over his chest.

"I kissed Charlie once, you know," she said suddenly. Remus looked up at her, and she fought back a smile when she saw the jealousy in his eyes. She drained the last of her beer, letting him sit with it for a moment.

"Yep," she said, putting her empty pint glass on the table. "He asked me out in sixth year, before the… y'know, Quidditch business."

Remus nodded wordlessly, staring at her. Tonks continued airily.

"We went to the Three Broomsticks and talked for bloody ages about the Chudley Cannons. I swear, that boy should write a book about that team, he knows enough useless facts to fill an encyclopedia."

Remus snorted despite himself.

"It was snowing while we walked back to the castle," Tonks said, staring off into the middle distance as she reminisced. "He started pelting me with snowballs. I retaliated, of course."

"Of course."

"Unfortunately," Tonks continued, grimacing as she remembered the scene, "I've never been very good at pulling punches. So I charmed a whole fleet of snowballs to chase him around and bash him over the head continuously."

The werewolf just stared at her for a long moment, stone faced. Then he reached out, grabbed his beer, and finished it.

"Sounds very romantic," he said drily as he returned the empty glass to the table. Tonks's lips twitched.

"Well I'm not going to hold back just because we're on a date!" she protested. Remus finally gave in and laughed, shaking his head.

"Of course not," he agreed. "Sounds like he just needed a better strategy. I know a great slingshot spell that would have worked a treat in that situation."

"Well, clearly I should have been on a date with _you_ , then," Tonks said, laughing, "because he never asked me out again after that."

Remus furrowed his brow.

"I thought you kissed him?"

"Oh yeah," Tonks remembered, rolling her eyes. "That happened in the Three Broomsticks, somewhere in between a lecture on the 1981 Quidditch World Cup and a lesson on how to properly maintain broom aerodynamics. Can't say it was all that memorable."

Remus covered his face with one hand, laughing silently into his palm.

"Dora, this sounds like such a disaster," he moaned. She nodded, laughing.

"That word describes pretty much every date I've ever been on, honestly."

Remus dropped his hand, shaking his head at her.

"He still seems to like you though," he remarked. Tonks rolled her eyes.

"I think he has some delusion that we're meant to be together, cause we've been friends for so long," she said, shaking her head. "He seems to have selectively forgotten about our fiasco of a date."

Remus smirked.

"Or maybe he just really wants a rematch."

"I don't know," Tonks said skeptically. "He had two black eyes after that snowball fight, had to make up some story about getting hit in the face by a Bludger during practice. I doubt he wants a rematch anytime soon."

Remus leaned back in his seat, whole body quaking with laughter. Tonks grinned, pressing her foot more firmly against his underneath the table. The werewolf calmed down, and just examined her silently, his eyes still crinkled up with mirth. Tonks smiled at him self-consciously.

"I have plenty more stories like that, you know," she said, quirking an eyebrow at him. "I have a habit of terrifying men."

Remus opened his mouth, hesitating for a moment as his amber eyes searched her features. Finally he spoke, his voice soft and uncertain.

"… you don't terrify me."

She cocked her head at him. She wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. Her entire body was quivering with a nervous energy that had been building ever since they'd sat down.

"The, uh… the feeling's mutual then," she stammered awkwardly, smiling. Her stomach lurched, and she twisted her hands together. Remus was staring at her like she was the sun that he orbited. She got the distinct impression that all she had to do was snap her fingers, and gravity would pull him into her embrace. His eyes dropped to her mouth for a long, heated moment, and Tonks cursed the table between them. Finally, he drew in a shaking breath and looked back up.

"Dora, I…" he began, his voice barely a whisper. He grimaced, crossing his arms over his chest again and bowing his head, taking several deep, steadying breaths.

"There are things I need to tell you," he said firmly, his eyes closed. "Things you deserve to know."

Tonks furrowed her brow.

"Like what?"

He hesitated. Tonks waited expectantly. She watched his nostrils flare. Then suddenly he raised his head, an oddly horrified expression on his face. His amber eyes were now alert and wary, scanning the packed pub almost frantically. Tonks furrowed her brow.

"Remus? What is it?"

He shook his head absently, eyes still darting from one corner of the room to the other.

"'s probably nothing," he muttered. "I just smell – "

He froze, his eyes fixed upon a couple sitting at a table in the opposite corner. Tonks followed his gaze, bewildered. She didn't recognise the young man, but the girl – who barely looked old enough to drink – was vaguely familiar. She was small, very pale, with long blond hair running down the back of her tight black dress. The girl raised a glass of red wine to her mouth, and suddenly Remus was off, crossing the packed room with shocking grace and speed. He leapt over several empty chairs, arriving at the couple's table just in time to gently intercept the girl's wine glass and guide it away from her mouth.

The girl looked up at him, surprise and anger on her pretty face. Tonks's stomach jolted. She couldn't hear what Remus was saying, but she was willing to bet it wasn't anything good, for the seated man rose slowly to his feet, his face also twisting with anger and his fists clenching. He was a good six inches taller than Remus, and probably a hundred pounds heavier. Tonks started forward, reaching into her pocket for her wand. The scene was already attracting attention from the surrounding patrons.

"Everything okay here?" Tonks asked, putting on her best Auror voice as she approached the table. The huge man was glowering down at Remus, who was blinking up at him impassively. The girl was still sitting down, looking bewildered and embarrassed.

"Why don't you mind your own business, Professor?" she demanded angrily.

"Everything's under control, Tonks," Remus said, ignoring the girl. "This man is about to leave. Isn't he?"

The man snarled, poking Remus forcefully in the chest.

"You don't get to tell me what to do, _wolf_ ," he spat. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"Oh really?" Remus replied blithely. "Is drugging young women considered acceptable behavior? Forgive me, I sometimes have trouble understanding human mating rituals."

The girl's eyes widened. She looked down at her glass of wine and slowly pushed it away from her. She then turned suspicious eyes on her date. The man ignored her, shoving his face even closer to Remus's.

"I didn't drug anyone," he hissed. "You must be mistaking me for one of your Death Eater friends."

Remus stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Ironically," he said, "I only knew one Death Eater who had to drug people in order to get laid. You're not related to Peter Pettigrew by any chance, are you?"

The man reached down and grabbed Remus by the front of his jumper, practically lifting the werewolf off his feet.

"I didn't drug _anyone!_ " he repeated, spittle flying from his mouth. "You're messing with the wrong man, Reaper!"

Remus reached up and calmly wiped spit off his cheek.

"Alright then, prove me wrong," he said. He waved a hand, and the girl's wine glass lifted into the air.

"Have a drink," the werewolf said, jerking his head at the wine. The large man looked between the glass and Remus, his grey eyes practically bugging out of his head. Tonks held her breath, her hand wrapped tightly around the wand in her pocket. By now, the entire pub was silent, everyone's gaze fixed on the drama unfolding before them.

"Come on mate," Tonks said, as the silence stretched on. "If you're really innocent, just take a fucking drink. Otherwise, you're going to have to come with me to the Ministry."

The threat of legal action was clearly enough to force the large man's hand. With a roar, he lifted Remus off his feet and threw him bodily against the wall. Then he set off running for the door.

" _Stupefy!_ " Tonks cried. But she was not the only one with her wand trained on the fleeing man. The young woman he had tried to drug was also on her feet, blue eyes flashing with rage as she too sent a stunning spell at her would-be rapist's back. Several other women at neighboring tables had their wands out as well, and the man fell like a sack of bricks, his large body hitting the ground so hard the entire pub shook.

There was a long, shocked silence. Then Remus stumbled to his feet, looking between the unconscious man and the various women who had brought him down.

"Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you lot," he said with a dark chuckle. "He's still alive, right?"

Tonks bent down and pressed her fingers against the man's neck. A strong pulse greeted her, and she nodded up at Remus.

"Yes, for better or worse."

"How did you know?" the girl demanded suddenly, blue eyes fixed on Remus. "About the drug?"

The werewolf tapped his nose.

"I could smell it from across the room."

The young woman furrowed her brow, and picked up the wine glass, sniffing it.

"I just smell wine."

Remus shrugged.

"My nose is a bit better than yours, Miss Taylor," he said gruffly. "Plus, I know that scent."

He waved his hand at the large man's jacket, which was hanging off the back of his chair. A small vial rose from one of the pockets, and Remus twisted it in midair, his lip curling in disgust.

"Rohypnol," he said quietly. "Nasty stuff. It's a Muggle drug, easier to get than a lot of magical equivalents."

"What would it have done to me?" Miss Taylor asked, staring at the vial warily. Remus grimaced.

"Nothing, at first," he said quietly. "He was probably planning to take you somewhere else, before the drug started paralyzing you. Then you're too tired to move, you can't stop him as he does whatever he wants. You just lie there, helpless, watching it all…"

He trailed off, staring blankly at the bottle in front of him. Something in his tone was making Tonks very uncomfortable. She walked over to him and laid a hand on his arm.

"Hey," she murmured. "It's okay. You stopped him."

Remus jerked, his eyes clearing. He looked down at her, and Tonks saw a fleeting glimpse of some hidden horror before he schooled his features into his normal emotionless mask.

"Yeah," he said gruffly, returning the vial to the man's jacket pocket. Tonks glanced over to find that Miss Taylor was also examining Remus shrewdly, her eyes darting between her former professor and the contaminated glass of wine on the table.

"I sent a message to the Auror office," Tom called out gruffly from behind the bar. "They'll be here soon. In the meantime, can I get anyone a drink?"

It was a cue for conversation to resume once again. Here and there, people turned back to what they were doing before the incident. But many people were still staring at Remus. The werewolf clearly did not appreciate the attention.

"What are you all looking at?" he snarled. "Show's over."

Tonks snorted, waving her wand to conjure ropes around the unconscious man's wrists.

"You have such a way with people, Remus," she teased. He ignored her, collapsing into a nearby chair and rubbing a hand down his face wearily.

"Merlin, I'm tired," he muttered, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the wall. "Why is the day after full moon always such a struggle?"

"Because the gods hate you," Tonks said simply as she rummaged through the man's pockets, looking for ID. Remus cracked an eye open, glaring at her.

"Why am I friends with you?" he asked sarcastically. "I just get abused constantly."

Tonks grinned at him.

"That's how I show affection, haven't you figured that out by now?"

Remus let out a weary huff of laughter, closing his eyes again and shaking his head.

"Thank you, Professor."

Both Tonks and Remus turned to look at Miss Taylor. The girl was sitting down again, her hands twisted together in her lap. She was shivering, her eyes fixed on the werewolf. Both Tonks and Remus furrowed their brows at her.

"You alright, Melanie?" Remus asked, his voice uncharacteristically kind. Melanie nodded, but her body was now quaking. She crossed her bare arms over her chest.

"I – I'm fine," she said, shooting the werewolf a weak smile. "Just – just thinking about what would have happened if you hadn't been here."

Remus regarded her for a long moment. Then he stood, pulling his jumper over his head in one fluid motion. The fabric caught on the shirt underneath, pulling it up far enough for Tonks to see his taut lower stomach for the second time that day. Remus re-adjusted his clothing, then handed his jumper to the girl.

"Here," he said awkwardly. "You look cold."

Melanie looked at the tattered jumper, then up at him. She gave him a shaky smile and accepted it, pulling the knitted grey fabric over her head gratefully. It engulfed her, falling far past the ends of her fingertips. She seemed to calm down immediately, burrowing into its warmth. Remus stuck his hands in his pockets and shifted on his feet.

"Try not to think about what might have been," he told her. "It never helps. Just learn what you can from it and move forward."

"Is that what you did?" Melanie asked, looking up at him. "When this happened to you?"

Remus stared at her, his face an expressionless mask. Tonks watched him intently, in awe of Melanie's bravery. Finally, Remus took a long, shaking breath.

"When this happened to me," he said, his voice remarkably steady, "the man who did it didn't live to tell the tale. You're already handling it better than I did."

Neither Melanie nor Tonks responded to this. What was there to say?

The sound of a wooden leg thumping across the floor heralded the arrival of Alastor Moody.

"Never a dull moment with you, is there Lupin?" the old Auror griped. "I was about to head home for the weekend, but you just had to create a bit more paperwork for me, didn't you?"

Tonks knew her boss was joking, but Remus was not in a humorous mood.

"Should I have just let it happen, Moody?" he snarled, turning angry eyes to the old man. Moody rolled both his good eye and his magical one, more than used to his young colleague's temper.

"Of course not, lad," he said. "Just… next time, try to catch attempted rapists on a Tuesday afternoon or something, will you?"

"I'll do my best," Remus retorted sarcastically. Moody sighed, turning to Tonks.

"Fancy helping me take statements, lass?"

It didn't take long to collect witness statements and gather evidence. Barely twenty minutes passed before Moody was on his way again, unconscious prisoner in tow. Tonks headed back into the pub, where she quickly found Remus propping up the bar.

"Where's Melanie?" she asked as she came up beside him. He pushed a glass of whiskey her way, then nodded towards the table of Hufflepuffs she had noticed earlier. Melanie now sat with them, a new glass of wine in hand, still wearing Remus's over-sized jumper.

"She was supposed to be meeting friends here, but they haven't arrived yet," he explained. "So I introduced her to some new ones."

Tonks took a drink.

"I notice you opted out of using a warming charm again," she commented cheekily. Remus gave her a pointed look.

"It's just not the same as a nice wooly jumper," he protested. "Jumpers make everyone feel better."

"Is that why you wear them all the time?"

Remus shrugged, taking a sip of whiskey.

"Maybe."

Tonks examined his profile for a long moment.

"You know, Mr. Lupin," she finally remarked, "if you're not careful, your students are actually going to start _liking_ you."

He scoffed.

" _Former_ students, please," he laughed. "I can't let my current students know I'm not some evil bastard who might use an Unforgivable on them at any moment. I'd lose all my authority."

"Whatever you say, Macchiavelli."

He turned to her, eyes crinkled up with mirth in the way she was growing to love.

"Thanks for having my back earlier," he said quietly. "I didn't really have a fight in me, I'm glad you were there."

She cocked her head at him, taking a step forward.

"My pleasure," she said, smiling. "He threw you quite hard against that wall, are you alright?"

Remus swallowed, clearly very aware of how close her body was to his.

"… erm, yeah – yeah, I'm fine."

Tonks reached out and ran a hand down his left side, where she knew his rib was still tender.

"Even here?"

She looked up to find his face inches away from her own. He looked terrified and elated at the same time – not unlike how she felt. His eyes flickered to her lips and back up again.

"Dora," he whispered, and she could smell the whiskey on his breath. One of his hands was suddenly on her waist, and his thumb found its way under the hem of her t-shirt, rubbing circles into the soft skin above her hip. Tonks's breath hitched, and she pressed herself against him almost involuntarily. His body was lean and hard against hers, and her heart hammered in her chest as he bent his head –

"You sick _bastard!_ "

Remus was torn away from her violently, and Tonks let out a cry of dismay when she saw who was responsible. Charlie had a fistful of Remus's shirt, and the young man was shoving the werewolf against the bar, an angry snarl on his freckled face.

"Charlie, what the _hell_ – "

"You said you weren't together, but I knew that was a lie," Charlie hissed in Remus's face. "It's written all over you, in every creepy move you make. You want to _fuck_ her, don't you! You want to lay your bloodstained hands on my friend, well let me tell you mate, it's _not going to happen!_ "

The red-haired man had obviously had a few drinks too many. But the damage was done. The pub was once again deathly silent, and Remus's face was as pale and still as marble.

"Let him go, Charlie," Tonks growled, her voice shaking with rage. "This is none of your business."

"It _is_ my business, though!" the young man cried, swaying on his feet. He released Remus, taking a few steps back but keeping his angry blue eyes fixed on the werewolf's face.

"It's _all_ of our business!" he continued, then leveled one shaking finger at Remus. "This – this _monster_ murdered our families, our friends! And he just walked away without even a slap on the wrist. And now I have to stand here and watch him be some – some kind of _hero?_ Watch him kiss my best friend?"

He spat in Remus's face. The werewolf didn't even flinch.

"I think it's time for you leave, son," Tom growled at Charlie from behind the bar. The red-haired man laughed.

"Time for _me_ to leave?" he scoffed. "What about the werewolf, eh? What about _him_?"

"The _werewolf_ ," Tom snarled, "is the only reason we're not living under Voldemort's thumb right now. I know that's hard to accept, kid, but it's the truth. Now get out of my bar, and don't come back."

Charlie glared at Tom for a long, horrible moment. Then he let out a bark of mirthless laughter.

"D'you really believe that?" he demanded. "You really believe we couldn't have won the War without _him_?"

He brandished his finger at Remus again.

"I'm tired of hearing that bullshit," Charlie spat. "We could have won without him."

"Maybe you're right."

Remus's quiet, weary voice was jarring compared to Charlie's hot anger. The werewolf was staring at his former student with frighteningly emotionless eyes.

"Maybe you could have won the War without me," he continued, his voice strangely distant. "But I guarantee you, Charlie, if it weren't for me it would have lasted a lot longer. Long enough for _you_ to be a part of it. And maybe, if you knew what war was really like, you wouldn't judge me quite so harshly."

The werewolf turned and laid a Galleon on the bar.

"Sorry for all the commotion, Tom," he muttered. "Buy everyone a round on me."

With that, he turned and strode past Charlie, pulling open the door and disappearing into the cold December night.

"Remus, _wait!_ " Tonks called out. She shot Charlie a poisonous glare before racing out the door after the werewolf. But by the time she reached the dark Muggle street, he was nowhere to be found. Tonks let out a half sigh, half sob of frustration, running both hands through her unruly pink hair. She stared angrily at the brick building across the street.

It took a moment for her to realize just what she was looking at. The brass railing on a flight of steps leading from the front door of the building jarred her memory, and she took several tentative steps forward. An image of a scrawny, desperate, golden-eyed boy flashed across her mind, and she realized that this was where she and Remus had first met, all those years ago. He'd been sitting beside these steps, a Muggle baseball cap with a few coins in it laid out in front of him in an effort to look more like a tramp. Tonks took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Are you alright?"

A young voice called out behind her. Tonks turned to see Melanie standing in the street. Tonks hesitated, then shook her head.

"Not really," she admitted, cursing the tears that were threatening at the corners of her eyes. Melanie examined her critically for a moment, then pulled Remus's jumper over her head in one fluid motion.

"Here," she said, offering it to Tonks. "I think you need this more than I do."

Tonks furrowed her brow.

"But… aren't you cold?"

Melanie's lips quirked.

"I cast a pretty decent warming charm," she said. Tonks chuckled despite herself.

"Fair enough," she whispered, then took the offered jumper. She pulled it over her head, and was immediately engulfed in the comforting scent of Remus. She held the collar to her nose, breathing in the unmistakable smells of wood smoke, soap, and his sweat. When she looked up again, Melanie was smirking at her.

"He's a pretty smelly bugger, isn't he?"

Tonks laughed.

"That he is. I don't think he does laundry quite as often as he should."

The two girls turned to head back into the Leaky Cauldron. Melanie paused with her hand on the door.

"You know," she said, looking at Tonks, "he does live at Hogwarts. You could always go find him."

Tonks shook her head.

"He doesn't react well to people shoving their way into his personal space," she explained. "He's sort of like a cat – you need to let him come to you."

Melanie snorted.

"A cat-like werewolf," she said, smirking. "That's a new one."

They re-entered the Leaky Cauldron to find Charlie gone and a few tables near the fireplace in disarray. Tonks shot Tom a questioning look, and the old man shrugged.

"We may have knocked him out and sent him back home through the Floo," he muttered as he plunked a new glass of whiskey down for her. "Did you manage to catch the boy?"

It took Tonks a moment to realize that Tom was referring to Remus.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "He was already gone."

"Well, I wouldn't worry, lass," Tom said gruffly. "I've never seen a man so gut-hooked in my life."

Tonks and Melanie exchanged confused glances.

"What d'you mean?" Tonks asked. Tom snorted, pouring another red wine for Melanie.

"On _you_ ," he said, waggling his eyebrows at Tonks. "The boy's head over heels for you, I noticed it the first time you two came in here."

Tonks gaped at the old man.

" _What?_ "

Tom rolled his eyes.

"Look, I've owned this pub for fifty years," he said. "I've seen more people fall in love within these walls than I can count. I know what it looks like."

He was called away to another customer, leaving Tonks standing, shellshocked, beside the bar.

"You know," Melanie commented airily beside her, "I'd never really noticed how fit Professor Lupin was before tonight."

Tonks glared at her.

"Down, girl," she said, lips twitching. "Hands off my man."

Melanie giggled.

"You want to come join us?" she asked Tonks, jerking her head toward the table with all the Hufflepuffs. Tonks hesitated, then shook her head.

"No, I think I'll call it a night," she said. "Thanks though."

Tonks downed the whiskey in one go, relishing the feeling of it burning its way down into her stomach. Then she bade farewell to Melanie and Tom, and threw Floo powder into the fire.

"281 Haycroft Road, Brixton!" she cried, before leaping into the flames.

She tumbled out of the fireplace into her flat, covered in black soot. She muttered curses under her breath. Traveling by Floo was never much fun, but it was better than getting Splinched or having to wait for the Knight Bus.

She had just finished showering and changing into pyjamas when a tentative knock sounded at the door. Tonks froze. A long moment passed, and the knock sounded again. So she wasn't imagining it.

She grabbed her wand off her bedside table and left her bedroom, approaching the door cautiously. It was almost midnight, who could be calling at this hour?

"Dora, it – it's me."

The voice was muffled through the wooden door, but she knew in an instant who it was.

"Remus?" she asked incredulously as she unlatched the door and opened it. "How d'you know where I live?"

He was leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, heavy bags under his eyes and a strong smell of alcohol wafting off him. His eyes wandered down her frame, and she suddenly remembered that she had donned his jumper again after getting out of the shower. It fell down to her mid-thigh, and since she was wearing pyjama shorts, it gave the distinct impression that she wasn't wearing anything else.

He swallowed, looking back up at her with his pupils dilated.

"Pink," he blurted out. Tonks blinked.

"What?"

"My favorite color," he explained, his eyes wandering involuntarily back down her body and up again. "It's pink."

She cocked her head at him, smiling.

"Well, fancy that."

She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into her flat, closing the door behind him. Before she knew what was happening, his arms were around her waist and his lips were on hers.

He tasted of whiskey. Three-day old stubble rasped against her skin. His lips, remarkably soft, caressed hers with a tenderness she had never expected from him. The kiss was over far too soon, and he leaned his forehead against hers.

"Dora, I didn't…" he whispered. "… I didn't come here for – well, I guess I sort of _did_ , but… well, I – "

"Remus, you're rambling," Tonks said, laughing. "What's wrong?"

He swallowed, reaching up a trembling hand to caress her cheek.

"I love you."

The three whispered words hung in the air like a bomb waiting to drop. Tonks drew in a sharp breath, and Remus drew in a long one, pulling away from her with fear in his eyes as he suddenly realized what he'd let slip.

" _Fuck_ ," he hissed, running both of his hands through his shaggy hair. "Fuck, Dora, I – I'm _sorry_ – "

But Tonks was shaking her head, tears in her eyes.

"You don't have to be sorry, Remus," she choked. "You really don't."

"That's not what I came here to tell you," he moaned, sounding utterly miserable. "It's – well, it's _true_ , but – "

"What _did_ you come here to tell me?" Tonks asked, reaching out a calming hand to him. He looked down at her outstretched hand longingly, but didn't take it.

"I can't see you anymore," he said dully. Tonks blinked.

"… what?"

"I can't see you anymore," he repeated, his eyes now shut tightly. Tonks shook her head in confusion.

"I don't understand," she said. "First you say you love me, then you can't see me anymore?"

"You deserve so much _better_ than this, Dora!" he cried, turning away from her. "You deserve so much better than some… pathetic old weirdo coming by and confessing his love for you. You deserve someone your own age, someone who doesn't need to be _fixed_."

"You don't need fixing, Remus, you said that yourself."

"Yeah, well, I lied!" he shouted, turning back to her with wild eyes. "I do that a lot, you know, my life used to depend on it!"

Tonks stared at him uncertainly.

"What are you saying, Remus?"

He grimaced.

"I'm saying that I'm a fucking _wreck_ , Dora," he spat. "Charlie was completely and utterly right. I don't deserve to kiss you, I don't deserve to even _talk_ to you."

Tonks shook her head.

"You're just drunk, Remus, this isn't rational."

She took a step forward, reaching out to him.

"Come on, let's just go to sleep, we can talk about it in the morning."

"I killed your aunt."

There was a long silence. Tonks stared at him mutely, and he rubbed his eyes fiercely with the back of his hand.

"The – the Dark Lord sent her to kill a family in Devonshire," he explained, his voice quiet and shaking. "It was near the end of the War, I was… I was just so tired."

He shook his head, running both hands through his already messy hair. He raised anguished eyes up to meet hers.

"I was so tired of sitting there, letting people die because I couldn't blow my cover," he choked. "It was a massive risk, there were…"

He hesitated, dropping his gaze again.

"… there were a lot of people depending on me to not fuck things up," he finally continued vaguely. "But for some reason, I heard Bella's orders and just… _snapped_. I followed her to this swamp, and…"

He trailed off, looking sick. Tonks took a long, shuddering breath.

"Why isn't this in your files?"

The werewolf let out a mirthless, almost hysterical bark of laughter.

"Because I didn't tell anyone," he said, his voice cracking. "I knew Dumbledore would use it as even more leverage to get me a pardon. ' _Oh look, he saved this innocent family from an evil madwoman_. _'_ "

He shook his head, looking like he was on the verge of tears.

"But that's not who Bella was," he whispered. "At least not to me, and maybe not to you either. I didn't want to kill her, just like I didn't want to kill Charlie's uncles. I just… I didn't have a _choice_."

He was staring down at the floor, his shoulders heaving with every shaking breath he took.

"I didn't deserve that pardon, Dora," he said. "And I don't deserve _you_."

Silence fell, and for a moment Tonks just examined the man in front of her. Then she took a deep breath.

"You know, my family all but threw a party when the Weasleys found Bella's body in the swamp outside their house."

The werewolf didn't respond for a long moment. Then he slowly raised his eyes to look at her. She nodded in confirmation.

"Auntie Bella kept making death threats against us," she explained. "Because of my Muggle-born father. We were the shame of the Black family, apart from Sirius. We had to move house about ten times during the War, I remember my parents being afraid _all the time_."

Remus turned his gaze back to the floor, his lips pulled tight.

"Nobody deserves to die," he muttered. "No matter what they've done."

Tonks nodded.

"You're right," she murmured. "But it was war, Remus. Like you said to Charlie. I've never been in a war, thank Merlin, but I can imagine that principles are a luxury most people can't afford."

Remus was clenching his fists, breathing deeply through his nose as he glared daggers at the floor. Tonks stepped forward cautiously and rested a gentle hand on his chest. His warm heartbeat caressed her palm.

"You are not a pathetic old weirdo," she said firmly. "And you're not a wreck. You're a good man who needs _help_. And I suspect you've been pushing away all offers of help for the last fifteen years, because you don't think you deserve it."

"I don't," he said firmly, glaring up at her. Tonks quirked an eyebrow.

"Well, you're wrong."

Remus stared down at her, his eyes searching hers desperately. One of his large hands reached up to cover hers, pressing her palm more firmly into his chest. His heartbeat was speeding up.

"I love you," he said again, his voice shaking. "I have for almost four years."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Well, you kept that a secret," she said, chuckling. "I thought you hated me until about six months ago, when you got me that coffee at work."

Remus grimaced.

"It's been… harder to hide, of late," he admitted, swallowing and looking down. Tonks hesitated.

"I'm sorry I can't… say it back to you just yet," she said awkwardly. "But I do really like you, and… well, you're a terrific kisser, I suppose that's a start."

He laughed despite himself.

"Glad you approve," he said, still staring at the floor. "I haven't had much practice."

"Really?" Tonks asked, raising an eyebrow. "I find that hard to believe."

Remus gave her a pointed look.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Miss Tonks."

She grinned.

"Well, I suppose I'll have to set up a practice regimen for you, then," she said airily, stepping closer to him and running her other hand up his chest as well. "At least two hours a day ought to do it."

He swallowed, looking vaguely terrified.

"Two hours?" he squeaked. She grinned at him cheekily.

"I have one condition," she said, holding up a finger. He nodded, looking down at her with awestruck eyes.

"You have to choose a therapist," she said, "and go talk to them at least once a week."

He froze.

"A – a therapist?"

She nodded.

"I have a feeling there are lots of things you've never told anyone," she said. The discomfort in his eyes was answer enough.

"Dumbledore set me up with a therapist for two years after the War," Remus said. "I bunked off most of the sessions, I think the bloke was pretty fed up with me by the end."

"Well, that won't be an option this time around," Tonks said firmly, "else your practice sessions may have to be rescheduled."

He stared at her incredulously.

"Nymphadora Tonks, are you pimping yourself out to give me an incentive to go to therapy?"

Her gaze wavered.

"… erm… yes?"

He laughed, shaking his head.

"Dora, no. That's not how this works."

She glared at him.

"Dammit Remus, I want to kiss you, but you keep coming up with reasons why I can't – "

He cut her off with his lips. She sighed happily into his mouth, and he pulled her close, practically lifting her off her feet. When they finally separated, they were both breathing heavily. He leaned his forehead against hers again.

"I will go to a therapist," he gasped. "I'll go every damn day, if that's what it takes."

Tonks grinned and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck.

"Good," she murmured into his warm skin. "Glad that's settled then."

For several minutes, they just stood there in Tonks's kitchen, curled around each other. Remus buried his nose in Tonks's hair, breathing her in.

"Thank you," he suddenly whispered. Tonks pulled back enough to give him a quizzical look.

"For what?"

"For… for _this_ ," he stammered. "I never thought I'd get to do this."

"What, stand in a girl's messy kitchen and talk about going to therapy?"

He laughed.

"No, just… hold you," he said quietly. "Feel your heartbeat against mine. I can't even describe how much it means to me."

Tonks cocked her head at him, smiling.

"Well, you can do that all night, if you want."

He froze, staring down at her with wide eyes.

"… erm…"

She laughed.

"Stop looking so terrified, Remus," she said. "I'm just talking about _sleeping_."

She reached down and grabbed his hand, pulling him around the corner and into her room.

"I would say it's usually cleaner than this," she said, looking around at the disaster zone that was her bedroom, "but I would be lying."

She looked up to find him staring at her intently, his mouth partially open.

"Dora, I don't… I don't know about this."

She stood on tip toe and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

"You can also take the Floo back to Hogwarts, if you like," she whispered, one hand caressing his stubbled cheek. He reached up with his free hand, holding her there.

"I think that's a better idea," he said, sounding relieved. Tonks nodded, feeling slightly disappointed. The idea of cuddling Remus all night was surprisingly appealing. But he was in love with her. While Tonks's feelings towards him were quite strong and very confusing, she didn't think that _love_ was quite the right word for it yet. She understood his hesitance to take any further steps.

"No more talk about not seeing me anymore, okay?" she whispered. He nodded, framing her face with his hands.

"Promise," he whispered back before kissing her again. He leaned his forehead against hers, letting out a long sigh.

"I better go," he said, sounding like it was the last thing he wanted to do. He took her hand and led her back out of the bedroom to stand in front of the fireplace. Tonks reached down and started to take off his jumper.

"Here," she said. "Melanie gave it to me, she could tell how upset I was when you left."

He put his hands out, pushing the jumper back down.

"Keep it," he said, smiling as his eyes took in the view of the pyjama shorts and tank top she was wearing underneath. "You look good in it."

She snorted.

"Oh, I'm sure."

"Trust me," Remus said, raising an eyebrow. "You do."

He bent down and kissed her again, this time coaxing her lips open with his and sweeping his tongue into her mouth. He held her to him tightly, and by the time he released her, Tonks was seeing stars.

"My goodness, you learn fast," she gasped, breathing heavily. He grinned cheekily.

"I'm highly motivated," he replied. "What I lack in experience, I plan to make up for in rigorous experimentation."

She quirked her eyebrows at him, smirking.

"Well, I'm certainly looking forward to _that_ ," she said. His grin widened, and he squeezed her to him one last time before letting her go, stepping towards the fireplace. He reached up to the mantel and took a handful of Floo powder.

"Wait!" Tonks cried, remembering something. "How did you find me, anyway? How'd you know where I live?"

Remus shifted on his feet, looking uncharacteristically ashamed.

"Erm… I may have… followed you home a few times," he muttered to the floor. "After the Umbridge incident."

She crossed her arms over her chest, an incredulous smile spreading across her face.

"You stalked me?"

He glared at her.

"I didn't _stalk_ you, I…"

"Stalked me."

He sighed in frustration.

"Fine, yes, I stalked you," he admitted. "But I was worried, I thought maybe Umbridge's goons would try to get revenge."

Tonks examined him for a moment, a smile still playing at the corners of her mouth.

"That's… incredibly sweet, in a creepy sort of way," she finally said. He grimaced, looking up at her self-consciously.

"Thanks?" he said, and she laughed.

"Go get some sleep, you big lump," she said. "And if you're free, a few of us are getting drinks at the Three Broomsticks on Sunday around three, if you want to join."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Who's 'a few of us'?"

"My friends Andre and Penny, maybe Ben as well."

He now raised both eyebrows.

"And you want me to come?"

She nodded, smiling at him in exasperation.

"Of course I do," she said. "So you better show."

He hesitated, weary amber eyes searching her features intently. Then he nodded.

"Alright," he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I'll be there."

He raised his hand, preparing to throw the Floo powder.

"Goodnight, Dora," he said, smiling at her.

"Goodnight, Remus."

With a roar of flames and a shout, he was gone, leaving Tonks alone in her flat. She reached down and pulled the collar of her jumper up, taking a deep breath of Remus's scent. She smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

"Do you have any plans for Christmas?"

"… do you _want_ me to have plans for Christmas?"

Tonks narrowed her eyes at Remus from across their desks in the Auror office.

"Stop being coy. Sirius invited you to Grimmauld Place again, didn't he?"

The werewolf didn't respond, hiding behind his coffee cup. Tonks took this as confirmation.

"You actually going to make an appearance this year?"

He shrugged mutely, setting his mug down. Tonks glared daggers at the large Slytherin crest that adorned it. He'd chosen it himself, despite the fact he'd never been Sorted.

"You are _not_ a Slytherin," she grumbled, crossing her arms petulantly. "You're a Ravenclaw."

This was an old argument by now. Ever since Moody had assigned them these desks six months ago, Tonks had complained about the Slytherin mug almost every day. Remus's lips curled into an indulgent smile.

"I'll have to join the queue of first-years next September," he replied, lounging back in his chair. "Solve this dilemma once and for all."

The mental image of Remus – pale, rangy and scarred – lined up with a load of terrified eleven-year-olds in the Great Hall was enough to make Tonks giggle.

"That I would like to see," she said, and his smile broadened into a grin. It was a slow afternoon in the Auror Office, three days before Christmas. A sudden snowstorm had brought London to a standstill, and even the criminals seemed to be in hibernation. Lupin and Tonks had the large office to themselves apart from Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was fast asleep on one of the couches in the break area. Several wreaths and sprigs of holly had found their way onto the walls, and Tonks had charmed the coffee machine to sing _Santa Baby_ every time someone made a cuppa. Remus had already fallen prey to this forced caroling three times.

"Are _you_ going to Black's place for Christmas?" he asked, cocking his head.

"Of course I am," she replied, the ' _duh_ ' silent but inferred. "All the cool kids will be there, you have to come."

He gave her a dubious look.

"Dora, I hardly count as a 'cool kid'."

"I beg to differ. Andre and Penny thought you were very cool on Sunday."

"That's because I bought us a bottle of absinthe."

"I really hated you for that on Monday."

"I hated _myself_ for that on Monday."

"But seriously Remus," Tonks said, laughing, "they liked you. And not because of the absinthe. Once you get comfortable enough with people to stop acting like an arse, you can actually be quite charming."

"I'm so flattered," he said drily.

"You even dug out some Quidditch news to discuss with Andre, I thought he was going to die of shock. I assume you did some research?"

He nodded, grabbing his coffee again.

"I memorized the sports page of the Daily Prophet that morning," he said. "Figured it would come in handy."

"How resourceful of you," Tonks said, quirking her mouth teasingly at him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Honestly, I don't care if they like me or not," he stated. "But I know _you_ do, so I put in the effort."

"I think you care more than you let on," she replied. "I think all that blustering and intimidation is just a defence mechanism."

He eyed her shrewdly.

"Maybe… Or maybe I genuinely dislike most of the people I interact with."

"Why?"

He shrugged.

"Same reason they dislike me. They've killed a lot of my friends. Hard to go to a bloke's house for Christmas when you know he's just inviting you out of guilt."

Tonks paused, examining the man across from her.

"What does Sirius have to feel guilty about?"

Remus looked like he regretted his previous statement.

"Nothing, don't worry about it. You going to finish that chocolate?"

Tonks silently handed him the remnants of her Honeyduke's chocolate bar, her brow still furrowed. He smiled in thanks, then tore into it with the intensity of the half-starved.

"We could get real food, you know," Tonks suggested, filing the odd comment about Sirius away for later.

"Sounds good to me," Remus said around a mouthful of chocolate. "Let me just finish that report Moody's been hounding me about. Shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

Tonks smirked at him as he began to rummage through the haphazard piles of paper that covered nearly every inch of his desk.

"You know, Remus," she said primly, "most people use these fancy things called _files_ to keep their papers organized."

"Don't you start, too," he griped from behind one of the more precarious stacks of forms. "My system works perfectly."

"Hmm, yes," Tonks agreed, watching the stack waver, pause, then tip dramatically, spilling parchment all over the floor next to Remus's desk. "Perfectly."

"Bugger," he muttered under his breath. With a long-suffering sigh, he got to his knees and started to rifle through the papers, still searching for the report Moody needed. Biting back a grin, Tonks joined him on the floor.

"Is it the one about that Muggle rail crossing thing?" she asked, picking up a sheet of parchment with so many doodles on it that it was barely recognizable as a standard arrest form. She held it up, eyebrows raised. Remus glanced at it and grimaced.

"Scrimgeour's monthly progress meetings are exceedingly boring," he said, by way of explanation. "And yes, it's about Crossrail. They're excavating right above the Atrium's ceiling, but the Ministry engineers said it won't be a problem. Not sure what this damned report will accomplish, but Moody wants it anyway."

Tonks was only half listening to him. She was still examining his doodles.

"Remus, you're a _really_ good artist."

He snorted incredulously.

"I'm serious!" she protested. "Look at the shading on that dragon! I can't even draw a good stick figure, this is unfair."

She glared at him. He blinked at her, nonplussed.

"You're one of those annoying people who's really good at everything, aren't you?" she asked. He let out a burst of surprised laughter.

"If that were true, I wouldn't be drowning in a sea of paperwork right now, searching for a report I should have finished two weeks ago."

"Fair point," Tonks conceded, then held up the doodled parchment again. "Can I keep this?"

He furrowed his brow at her, obviously bemused.

"If you want to," he replied, lips quirking.

"Thanks!" she said, smiling at him as she placed the form on her desk. "Right, let's find this thing, shall we?"

They dove back into the pile of papers, sifting through several months-worth of half-finished reports and old memos. There were more doodles – all of which Tonks saved – and even a few Hogwarts assignments.

"How did this get here?!" Tonks asked incredulously as she stared down at Hermione Granger's essay on Unforgivable Curses.

"Oh shit," Remus hissed, grabbing it out of her hands. "She's been asking me about that for weeks, I thought I'd lost it."

Tonks snorted, giving the werewolf an affectionate look.

"Maybe you should get one of those new Muggle devices – a pewter, or whatever it is."

"A computer?" he confirmed, chuckling. "Maybe. I'd have to fiddle with the power supply so it worked down here. But that's not a bad idea, actually. I hate all these papers."

"Really? I never would have guessed," Tonks remarked drily. "Oh, here it is!"

She held the report out to him and he gave her a grateful smile.

"Thanks."

"No worries."

But instead of taking the papers from her, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward. Tonks let out a small squeak of surprise as she slid across the pile of parchment on the stone floor. Then Remus's lips were on hers, thanking her more thoroughly for her assistance. She smiled into his mouth, deepening the kiss. When they finally parted, she grinned up at him cheekily.

"Getting bolder, I see."

He smirked, then kissed her again. His calloused hand cupped her cheek and the back of her neck, pulling her even closer to him. She almost toppled forward but steadied herself with a hand on his chest. He felt warm and firm through his linen shirt, and she played with the top buttons, resisting the urge to undo them.

"… and this is our main office. As you can see, business is rather slow today…"

Moody's voice was like a bucket of ice water over their heads. Tonks tore herself away from Remus and they stared at each other, wide-eyed, as their boss continued to speak from the other side of the room.

"… but this place is usually a mad house. All of our operations are staged from here. Yes, Mr. Potter?"

Tonks clapped a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. All the blood left Remus's face, leaving him pale and trembling.

"Excuse me sir, but… is there no one on duty? That seems odd."

" _Fucking hell, that fucking tour,_ " Remus hissed. They had completely forgotten about Moody's warning earlier that day. He was showing the seventh-year Gryffindors around the Ministry as part of the new Careers Education class that McGonagall had initiated. Tonks thought it was a brilliant idea, but Moody's timing left much to be desired.

"You're right Mr. Potter," Moody grunted. "There should be someone here. Shacklebolt! Tonks! Lupin! Stop hiding!"

"And _that_ , Remus, is why you should start putting these in alphabetical order," Tonks said loudly as she stood up and slammed a pile of parchment onto Lupin's desk. "Really, I don't know how you find _anything_ in this mess."

The werewolf rose quickly to his feet behind her.

"I am perfectly capable of organizing my own desk, thank you very much," he griped, then feigned surprise as he saw the crowd of people near the doorway. "Ah, Moody. We were just wondering when you lot would get here."

Moody raised a suspicious eyebrow at them. Behind him, the eyes of a dozen teenagers widened with horror as they saw Lupin. Tonks bit the inside of her lip hard to keep from laughing, and beside her Remus let out an exasperated sigh.

"Where's Shacklebolt?" Mad-Eye growled. A thump and a muffled curse from the other side of the room answered his question.

"Here, sir!" Kingsley said, rocketing to his feet. His robes were rumpled and askew, and his eyes were bleary with sleep. Moody looked between the three of them, a deeply disapproving expression on his face.

" _CONSTANT VIGILANCE!_ " he roared. The teenagers behind him all but leapt out of their skins. Even Tonks – who'd known it was coming – couldn't help but jump. Beside her, Remus just let out an involuntary snort of laughter.

"Something funny, Lupin?" Moody demanded, his magical eye whirling angrily. "You of all people should know the importance of remaining vigilant at all times. What if some criminal had walked in here while Shacklebolt was asleep and you two were faffing about on the floor?"

But Remus was incapable of providing a response. He was still sniggering into his fist, his eyes tightly closed. Tonks tried – and failed – to keep a straight face as his irrational mirth continued. Moody was swelling with offended rage, and the teenagers were gawping at their professor like they'd never seen him before.

"Sorry," Remus managed to gasp, waving the attention away. "Sorry, just… ignore me."

"Have you finished that Crossrail report yet?" Moody snapped.

"Nope," the werewolf replied unapologetically, still fighting back a grin. "But all the important bits are done. Want to see it?"

He held up the offending report, and Moody let out an exasperated sigh. The old man stumped forward and snatched the parchment from Remus's hand.

"Why do I continue to put up with you?" Moody grumbled. Remus shrugged.

"My sparkling personality?" he suggested drily. Moody snorted as he paged through the report.

"I need to bring this to the Minister," the old man grunted, his magical eye speeding across Lupin's untidy scrawl. He looked up and fixed the werewolf and the metamorphmagus with a stern glare.

"Look after this lot for a while, will you?" he asked, jerking his head back towards the crowd of teenagers. "Show them around the Justice Department and Beast Division, they've been everywhere else. I'll meet you in the Atrium at three o'clock."

Ignoring the stifled protests of most of the people in the room, Moody stumped away, Lupin's report tucked under his arm.

"No more napping on the job, Shacklebolt!" he barked over his shoulder. "Unless you want to find out what it's like to be a ferret!"

As the old man left the room, Tonks shot Kingsley a sympathetic glance. The tall Auror just rolled his eyes and shook his head before shuffling towards the coffee machine. Tonks then turned to see Remus fixing his students with an icy stare, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. The teenagers looked – if possible – even more unhappy about the arrangement than he did.

"Tonks can show us around by herself, can't she?" Harry asked desperately. Tonks tried to hide a snigger behind her fist. Remus arched an unamused eyebrow at her, indicating that she had not been entirely successful.

"I don't see why not," he drawled, returning his gaze to the black-haired boy in front of him. The crowd of teenagers tried not to look relieved.

"But Remus," Tonks protested, "I've only been here a few years. Surely _you_ would have more interesting insights into how the Ministry operates."

Remus narrowed his eyes at her. She blinked innocently back.

"Besides…" she continued, "Mad Eye's already annoyed with you. Best to follow his orders and come with us."

The werewolf's nostrils flared as he took a deep, exasperated breath. His amber gaze promised Tonks retribution in the near future. She shot him a cheeky smile.

"Excellent!" she proclaimed, clapping her hands together and turning back to the teenagers. Most of them were staring at her like she'd just killed a baby niffler.

"Justice Department first?" Tonks suggested. "Follow me!"

She set off towards the exit. The teenagers shuffled begrudgingly after her. As she pulled open the door, Tonks looked back to find Remus taking up the rear, his arms still crossed petulantly. He glared at her over the Gryffindors' heads, but she just grinned back at him before turning and leading the teenagers out of the office. As they left, the dulcet tones of _Santa Baby_ burst forth from the coffee machine yet again.

"Turn on the milk steamer!" Remus shouted over his shoulder at Kingsley. "Otherwise it'll never shut up!"

The song stopped abruptly.

"Cheers, mate!" Kingsley called out as Remus closed the door behind him.

"Spoilsport," Tonks said from the front. "Took you ten whole minutes to figure that out, you can't give it to him for free."

"Kingsley has the patience of a Blast-Ended Skrewt," Remus replied drily. "I would rather he didn't turn our only source of caffeine into a smoking ruin."

"Fair point," Tonks conceded as she led the group toward the lifts. She stepped into one and the students filed in dutifully after her. It wasn't until Remus entered that Tonks realized why she was feeling uncharacteristically cramped. The teenagers were all crowded on her side, leaving almost half the lift for Remus. The werewolf pressed the button for the Justice Department then leaned nonchalantly against the wall, his hands in his pockets, looking utterly content with the arrangement.

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Tonks exclaimed. "Are you Gryffindors or aren't you? He's not going to _bite_."

Remus raised an eyebrow at her.

"You sure about that?"

She glared at him. With a huff, she pushed her way out of the crowd of teenagers and crossed to his side of the lift. She reached out and put a deliberate hand on his upper arm.

"See?" she said pointedly to the teenagers. "I'm still alive."

"For now," Remus said, stonefaced. Tonks let out an exasperated sigh, but the lift doors opened again before she could say anything else. The polished floors and high marble pillars of the Justice Department greeted them, and the teenagers' eyes widened as they stepped out into the opulent front hall. Witches and wizards in black robes and white wigs bustled to and fro, carrying massive books and looking terribly important.

"It's _beautiful,_ " Hermione Granger breathed, her brown eyes alight with wonder.

"There are seven courtrooms off this main hall," Tonks explained, stepping into her role as tour guide. "On this side," she gestured to her right, "we have the courts for Muggle Relations, Violent Crimes, and Business, and on this side," she gestured to the left, "are the courts for International Crimes, Magical Accidents, and Family Law. Anything that can't be settled in the lower courts goes to the Wizengamot, up at the top."

They all looked to the front of the Main Hall, where a pair of grandiose wooden doors marked the entrance to Great Britain's Wizarding High Court.

"How do you get elected to the Wizengamot?" Hermione asked Tonks eagerly.

"You bribe the Chief Warlock and sleep with the Minister," Remus answered from one of the marble pillars. He was leaning against it, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

" _Remus_ …" Tonks growled. He shrugged.

"What? I'm just telling them the truth. Not my fault our political system is fucked."

Ignoring him, Tonks turned back to Hermione, who was looking between Lupin and Tonks with a concerned expression on her face.

"My friend Penny is an intern for a member of the Wizengamot," Tonks explained. "She's learning how the system works and preparing her application for law school. That takes another three years, then she'll be eligible for a position at one of the lower courts. You can work your way up from there."

Remus snorted derisively and Tonks shot him a warning glance before turning back to the students.

"Any other questions?"

Hermione and several of the other Gryffindors proceeded to bombard Tonks with questions, only some of which she could answer. Remus proved to be of absolutely no help, as he wandered off in the direction of the Family Law court. Ten minutes passed, and the students began to mill about the grandiose hall on their own, examining the moving statues and talking portraits that memorialized several millennia of magical law.

Another five minutes on and Tonks was still discussing law school with Hermione and Dean Thomas when a familiar raised voice echoed down the hall.

"God- _fucking_ -dammit, Titus, what more do they _want?!_ "

Tonks's voice faltered.

"Is that Professor Lupin?" Hermione asked, confused. Tonks didn't respond. She turned and craned her neck, but her view of the recalcitrant werewolf was obscured by one of the hall's many columns.

"Stay here," she told Hermione and Dean over her shoulder, then walked briskly in the direction from which Remus's voice had come. He'd sounded angrier than normal, which was saying something. She just hoped she'd get to him in time to prevent bloodshed.

She rounded the row of columns and caught sight of the ex-Reaper outside the Family Law court. He was having what looked like a very heated discussion with an old wizard in lawyer's garb. Remus's hands were on his hips, and he was putting his superior height to good use, looming over the old man with fire in his amber eyes.

"… times do I have to do this before they'll listen?" Remus was demanding as she approached. "Or will they just keep adding boxes for me to tick until I die of old age?"

"Mr. Lupin, I know you're upset – "

"Upset doesn't even begin to describe it, Titus," the werewolf snarled. "They deserve an education, same as anyone."

"I _agree_ with you – "

"No, you don't," Remus spat derisively. "You're just saying that so I'll go away and try again next year. Like you do _every year_."

"Something wrong, gentlemen?"

Tonks had finally arrived. The old wizard looked beyond relieved to see someone in Auror robes.

"This man is harassing me," he said, pointing a shaking finger at the werewolf towering over him.

"Harassing?!" Remus barked, letting out a mirthless laugh. "I'll show you _harassing –_ "

"Remus!" Tonks snapped, grabbing his forearm. "Come on. You're not accomplishing anything here."

He tried to pull out of her grip, but she held on fiercely. He turned burning eyes on her and she glared back at him, her jaw clenched.

"Throwing a tantrum is not going to help your cause, whatever it is," she hissed at him.

"Yeah, well, _nothing_ I do seems to help," he snarled back, "so I might as well get the satisfaction of breaking his nose."

But by the time he turned back to the old man, he was gone. Tonks didn't blame him. Remus was truly frightening when he was angry.

"Snivelling _coward_!" Remus shouted at the man's back as he disappeared into one of the courtrooms. Tonks suppressed a sigh.

"Care to tell me what that was all about?" she asked testily. Remus didn't respond. He just gave her a cold glare before brushing past her and making for the lifts.

"… and now you're giving me the silent treatment. Brilliant. How mature."

He turned on her with a snarl on his lips.

"I don't need your sarcasm, Tonks!"

"And _I_ don't need your mood swings!" she retorted. "I don't know what your problem is, but terrorizing a little old man isn't going to solve it! Neither is biting my head off!"

They glared at each other for several moments, both breathing heavily. Finally, Tonks let out an exasperated sigh.

"Let's just get out of here, alright? I think we've overstayed our welcome."

A quick glance around proved her point. Remus's shouting had attracted quite a few curious onlookers. Tonks was surprised to see that the Gryffindors had already gathered themselves into a group and were standing nearby, watching the heated argument with interest.

"Right, you lot," she said with feigned enthusiasm, turning away from Remus. "Shall we go to Beast Division?"

"Joy of joys…" Remus muttered sarcastically behind her. Tonks studiously ignored him, leading the teenagers back to the lifts. It took several minutes for one to arrive, and they all stood in silence, waiting. Tonks could have cut the tension with a knife.

"Is there a problem, Potter?" Remus suddenly snapped. Tonks glanced over to see Harry quickly averting his gaze from the ex-Reaper's face.

"Sorry, sir."

Remus grunted, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the lift doors in front of him as though their refusal to open was a personal affront. Harry glanced furtively at his professor once, twice, then finally took the plunge and voiced the question he'd clearly been dying to ask.

"Are you really petitioning the Wizengamot to let werewolf children attend Hogwarts?"

Remus visibly stiffened, the muscles in his jaw tightening. He slowly turned his head to fix the black-haired boy with an icy glare.

"It's not polite to eavesdrop, Potter," he hissed. Tonks watched Harry's throat bob as he gathered the courage to respond in the face of such cold wrath.

"I – I know sir, I'm sorry, but… are you?"

The lift door opened and Remus stalked inside, turning to brace himself against the brass railing in the back corner. They filed in after him, and Tonks pressed the button for Beast Division.

"Harry asked you a question, Remus," she said, giving him a pointed look from across the lift. "And to be honest, I want to know the answer just as much as he does."

He glared at her, breathing heavily through flared nostrils. Then he turned his gaze to Harry.

"No, I'm not," he snapped. "I would _like_ to. But you'll be happy to know that they've rejected my proposal."

Harry furrowed his brow.

"… why would I be _happy_ about that?"

The question clearly threw Remus off. He blinked at the boy.

"Because he thinks we're against the idea," Tonks answered for him. Suddenly, everything made sense. Her anger towards the man evaporated, and she opened her mouth to apologize.

"Well, _aren't_ we?"

Ron Weasley's tone bordered on disgusted, and Tonks' heart sank. The red-haired boy was looking at her incredulously.

"They can't go to Hogwarts!" he protested. "It's bad enough having _him_ there – " he gestured to Lupin, " – but werewolf _children_? I rather like being able to learn without fearing for my life, thank you very much."

"They would have Wolfsbane, Ron," Tonks retorted. "It's not like they'd be running around the corridors, biting people."

"No, they'd just have superhuman strength and speed, and tempers as short as a Doxie's fingernail," Ron spat. "Why do they need to go to school anyway? The Ministry gives them Wolfsbane and a fixed income, all they have to do is stay out of trouble. I'd say that's a pretty good deal after what they did during the War."

"After what we did?!" Remus suddenly exploded, his face pale and livid as he glared at Ron. "After what _we_ did? Oh, that's rich coming from a little purebred toerag like you. You have any idea how differently the War would have gone if werewolves weren't treated like the shit you scrape off your boot? If we'd been educated, if we hadn't been beaten and abused at every turn, there wouldn't have _been_ a war! The Dark Lord wouldn't have had any soldiers!"

"Oh come off it," Ron snorted derisively. "If you'd gone to Hogwarts, you'd have been sorted into Slytherin with all the other Death Eaters, and nothing would have changed."

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione snapped, glaring at him. The red-haired boy gaped at her in shock but she ignored him, turning instead to look at Lupin.

"Why did they reject your petition?" she asked earnestly. "Surely they can see the logic in your argument."

Remus was once again floored. He blinked incredulously at the girl. He clearly hadn't expected anyone to agree with him. But before he could answer, the lift doors opened at Beast Division, and Tonks turned to find herself face to face with a hulking man from the Werewolf Capture Unit.

The atmosphere in the small space instantly turned frigid. The man's face darkened as he looked down at Tonks, and when his grey eyes found Remus on the other side of the lift his lips curled into a snarl.

" _You_."

"Do I know you?" Remus asked, his voice cold enough to burn.

"You broke my arm on the Knight Bus last month, you bastard!" the man shouted, trying to push his way towards the werewolf. Tonks stood firmly in his way.

"Ah, so you're the one who tried to shoot Tonks here."

"I was just doing my job, Reaper."

"No you weren't, you were covering Umbridge's arse. You're lucky you're not in Azkaban with her."

It sounded like Remus had pushed past his students to stand right behind Tonks. She stood her ground, determined to keep this from devolving into violence.

"I think you should get the next lift, mate," she growled up at the man. He shot her a derisive glance.

"She follow you everywhere, then?" he asked Remus, jerking his head at her. "Defending your honor, sucking your cock?"

Remus was fast, but predictable. Before he could force his way past Tonks, she had pressed the button for the Atrium and turned to wrap her arms around his waist. The doors closed in the other man's face, and the lift started its calm ascent to the Atrium.

"Dora!" Remus protested, his eyes burning with rage. "Stop the fucking lift!"

"He's provoking you!" she replied, struggling to hold him away from the buttons that would bring them back to Beast Division. "He _wants_ you to attack him so he can arrest you."

"I _know_ that," the werewolf snarled. "I don't care, I'm going to break his other arm! Nobody gets to say shit like that to you!"

Despite her current predicament, Tonks couldn't help but smile.

"Remus, as touched as I am, your protection is unnecessary. Don't worry, our WCU friend will find a little gift in his desk come morning."

The werewolf's struggles finally began to subside. He looked down at her, one hand coming to rest on her hip.

"It's going to take a bit more than a dungbomb to get even with that slimeball," he growled. Tonks considered his statement for a moment, bringing a thumb and forefinger up to stroke her chin thoughtfully.

"Dungbomb _and_ a Portable Swamp?"

Remus cocked his head, then nodded curtly.

"That's acceptable."

Tonks gave him a broad smile, then looked around at the confused Gryffindors.

"Oh dear," she said, chuckling as she took a step away from Remus. "I'm afraid we've given your students a rather melodramatic impression of the Ministry."

Remus shrugged, removing his hands from her hips and sticking them in his pockets.

"It's always like this for me. I shouldn't have let you bamboozle me into coming."

"You just wanted to dance to Santa Baby with Kings," Tonks teased, smirking up at him. He quirked his eyebrows.

"Maybe."

The lift doors opened again behind Tonks, and they spilled out into the Atrium. The bright lights, vaulted ceiling, and calming sound of the central fountain was like a breath of fresh air after the tense atmosphere of the last few minutes.

"As you've probably guessed," Tonks called out to her teenage charges as they gathered around her, "we're skipping Beast Division. I hope nobody's too heartbroken about that. If you are, well… too bad."

She glanced at the huge clock hanging on the wall above them.

"It's twenty to three now, why don't you explore the Atrium a bit and meet us at the central fountain in fifteen minutes?"

With murmured acknowledgements, the teenagers drifted off in smaller groups, still looking rather bemused by what they had just witnessed. Finally alone, Tonks turned to Remus.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately, eyes fixed on his shoes. She furrowed her brow.

"For what?"

He looked up at her in confusion.

"For everything that just happened."

She cocked her head at him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"While I admit that your reactions were a bit… volatile…"

He grimaced at this, but she continued.

"… none of what just happened was your fault. I didn't realize how exhausting it must be to… well, be _you_ around here."

He didn't respond, his gaze fixed once again on the ground. She examined him for a long moment.

"How many times have they rejected your petition?" she finally asked. His throat bobbed, but he didn't look up.

"… this is the sixth. I've applied every year since I started teaching."

"Bloody hell. And they've never even considered it?"

He shook his head morosely.

"First time it was because I hadn't filled in one of the boxes on the form correctly. Second time it was because I'd written in blue ink, instead of black. I forget all the other reasons, but…"

He drew in a deep breath, then shook his head.

"Dumbledore has written a letter expressing his support the last three times," he continued, sounding exhausted. "And now that Umbridge is out of the picture, I really thought they would give it a chance. Guess I was wrong."

Tonks grimaced unhappily. She stepped forward and wrapped a hand around his forearm.

"Come on. Let's get some food in you. Then we can figure out a way to make them listen."

He glanced up at her, looking unconvinced. But he allowed her to steer him in the direction of the Atrium café.

" _I'm_ the one who should be apologizing," she said as they walked side by side. "I should have let you break that lawyer's nose."

He snorted.

"No, you were right. It would have just made things worse. Hard to remember that in the moment, though."

They joined the queue for the café behind a medi-witch in blue scrubs.

"Sounds like you have some support from your students," Tonks pointed out.

"Yes, that was… surprising."

Tonks smirked at him.

"Remus, not all humans are bigoted arseholes."

"I know that, I just…"

"Don't trust anyone?"

He shot her an odd look.

"You sound like Bryony."

"Oh?"

"She says I have trust issues."

"You don't need to be a therapist to see that."

"She also says I have PTSD and an irrational guilt complex that makes me lash out with self-destructive violence."

"Wow. All that from just two sessions? I like this woman."

Remus sighed deeply and ran a weary hand down his face.

"I fucking hate those sessions. They're exhausting. She'd be a great spy, she picks up on things I've been able to hide my whole life."

"Dumbledore wouldn't have recommended her if she weren't good. D'you think it's helping?"

He shrugged.

"I dunno. Depends on your definition of 'helping', I guess."

Tonks reached over and took his hand. He looked down at her in surprise. She smiled at him.

"You're a good man, Remus Lupin."

He let out an awkward chuckle and tightened his grip on her.

"Not sure what I did to deserve that, but… thanks."

The medi-witch in front of them turned around, coffee in hand, and brushed past them, shooting a fleeting glance at Remus. Instead of the guarded hatred Tonks had grown used to seeing directed at the ex-Reaper, the woman's eyes held something almost like admiration. Remus almost certainly hadn't seen it – he seemed to make a point of avoiding eye contact with strangers – but Tonks couldn't help but smile as they stepped up to the counter and placed their orders.

Sandwiches in hand, they made their way towards the central fountain. They sat down on its stone edge, and for several minutes they ate in companionable silence. Tonks hadn't realized just how hungry she was. She was more than halfway through her roast beef and horseradish sandwich when she remembered something vitally important.

"Shit, I've been meaning to ask you… what d'you want for Christmas?"

Remus shot her a confused look.

"Sorry?"

"For Christmas," she repeated. "What do you want?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. No words came out. Tonks stared at him incredulously.

"You do know what a Christmas present is, right?"

"… 'course I know what a Christmas present is. You don't need to give me one, though."

"Yes, I do," Tonks insisted. "You're my…"

She faltered, struggling to come up with a word to describe what Remus was to her. He just stared at her unhelpfully.

"… my man friend," she finally finished, wincing even as the words came out of her mouth. Remus stared blankly at her for a moment longer. Then…

"… your _man friend?_ "

He was starting to chuckle. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Well, what else am I supposed to call you?"

But he wasn't listening. He was now full on laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners just the way she liked them. She couldn't help but smile as the sound of his mirth echoed through the crowded Atrium. As he calmed down again, she stared at him expectantly.

"Much as I enjoy making you laugh, that is not an answer. What d'you want for Christmas?"

His grin softened into an uncharacteristically self-conscious smile, and he contemplated her for a long moment.

"You really want to know?"

"Yes."

He hesitated.

"You," he said. "I want you."

If they hadn't been eating sandwiches in a loud room full of strangers, Tonks might have jumped him right then and there. As it was, it took her several seconds before she could properly breathe again.

"… oh," she finally replied, hoping that Remus couldn't hear her heart hammering in her chest. "Well… that can be arranged."

She ruined the moment by taking a giant bite of her sandwich. Remus grinned at her, his eyes lit with a mixture of desire and wicked humor. He was about to say something when his expression faltered and his eyes closed. Tonks furrowed her brow.

"Remus?"

"Shhh…"

He was holding a finger to his lips, his head cocked. For half a minute she simply sat there, trying not to breathe too loudly. Finally, he opened his eyes.

"Sorry. Thought I heard something."

It was his turn to take a giant bite of his sandwich. Tonks pursed her lips.

"That's a rather disconcerting thing to say," she informed him. "What did you hear?"

He shook his head, still chewing.

"I think it was just the Muggle machinery working up there," he said once he'd swallowed, gesturing dismissively at the ceiling.

"How close are they to the top of the Atrium?"

"About ten metres. Sounded a bit dodgy to me, but apparently the man who designed this place was some sort of genius. Engineers said they could come within a metre of the ceiling's apex and it wouldn't do any damage."

"That _does_ sound dodgy."

Remus shrugged, then fixed Tonks with a piercing look.

"What do _you_ want for Christmas?"

She contemplated the question for a moment before reaching a conclusion.

"I want you to come to Grimmauld Place."

"Aw, Dora – "

"Either that, or I want you to explain why you're so against the idea."

He grimaced, turning away from her to glare down at the remnants of his sandwich.

"Fine, I'll come. Just… promise you won't leave me alone with Sirius?"

"Why?"

"He has a bad habit of bringing up things I'd prefer to forget."

"Well, now I'm just curious."

"Dora."

There was a different tone to Remus's voice – one she had never heard. He turned to fix her with earnest, almost pleading eyes.

"Please," he said softly, urgently. "Don't ask me about this. Ask me anything else – anything you want to know, and I'll tell you. Just… not this."

Tonks stared at him, now deeply concerned. Whatever nerve she'd managed to poke, it was a sensitive one.

"Okay," she agreed, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. He tried to smile back, but it ended up looking rather painful.

They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, finishing their lunch. When they were done, Tonks crumpled up the newspaper in which the café had wrapped her sandwich and tossed it at the nearest rubbish bin. It fell pitifully short. Remus snorted, and she arched an eyebrow at him.

"I'd like to see _you_ do better, Hotshot."

He smirked at her, rising to the challenge. He crumpled up his newspaper and hurled it into the air. Tonks burst out laughing.

"That's a _terrible_ throw!"

But no sooner had the words left her lips than the newspaper ball changed direction in mid-air, zooming into the bin with a satisfying _thwack_. She turned to gape at Remus.

"But… your wand is in your pocket!"

He arched a self-satisfied eyebrow at her.

"Your point being?"

He flicked a finger, and her own newspaper ball – rolling despondently on the floor – joined his in the rubbish bin. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You _are_ one of those annoying people who's really good at everything," she said, confirming her own theory from earlier. "You've that coin trick too, I can't even stir my _tea_ with wandless magic!"

He shrugged.

"It's just practice. I didn't get a wand until I was twelve. Anyone who couldn't control magic without one was an easy target in the packs. Believe me, you'd have figured it out pretty fast."

She shuddered.

"I'm glad I didn't have to."

"Me too."

Brown eyes met amber. With a sigh, she scooted closer and leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Will you be wanting gift wrap?"

"… pardon?"

"On your present."

She could almost hear the cogs turning in his head. Then –

"Oh. _Oh_. Erm…"

A slow smile began to form on her lips. She propped her chin up on his shoulder so she had a close up look as his face turned bright red. She pressed a lingering kiss to his burning cheek.

"Think about it," she whispered in his ear. When she pulled back, the look in his eyes told her that he would indeed be thinking about it. All the time.

Someone cleared their throat loudly. Tonks and Remus blinked, then looked up to see the Gryffindors standing awkwardly in front of them. Their expressions ranged from utterly disgusted to completely giddy. Ron Weasley's face was twisted in a horrified grimace, while Hermione and Lavender were covering their shocked grins with their hands, their eyes alight with glee.

"Excellent, you're right on time!" Tonks said matter-of-factly, leaping to her feet and brushing dust off her jeans. "Moody should be along any second – "

"Are you _dating_ him _?_ "

Ron's voice was disbelieving, accusatory. Tonks narrowed her eyes at the red-haired boy.

"Yes, I am. Not that it's any of your business."

She glanced back to find that Remus had risen to his feet as well. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, his face was still red, and he was avoiding his students' eyes like they were a crowd of Basilisks. Tonks suppressed a sigh.

"But Tonks – "

"Mr. Weasley, I really don't care about your opinion," she snarled, turning to pin Ron with an angry glare. "I've already had to deal with one bigoted Weasley this week, do me a favor and keep your mouth shut."

Ron's mouth closed with a snap. But his burning blue eyes told Tonks everything that he wasn't saying.

"Now," Tonks said crisply, turning to the rest of the teenagers, "is everyone here?"

She did a quick head count, confirming that there were, indeed, twelve teenagers in front of her.

"Right, well, I hope you lot enjoyed your tour of the Ministry," Tonks said. "I know we enjoyed showing you around… "

She shot a teasing look over her shoulder at Remus. But he wasn't listening to her. He was staring up at the ceiling, his head cocked and his brow furrowed.

"… Remus?" she asked tentatively. She knew that look. Something was wrong.

"We need to get out of here," he said shortly, still staring at the ceiling.

"… I take it the engineers were wrong."

"Certainly sounds like it."

" _Shit._ We have to clear the room."

"I can do that."

He turned and leapt up on the edge of the fountain. Pulling his wand out of his pocket, he thrust it into the air.

" _Morsmordre!_ " he shouted, his suddenly menacing voice echoing through the crowded hall. Everyone cried out as a sickening green light burst from the end of his wand. It circled the Atrium like a hurricane before congealing into the all-too-familiar shape of a skull. The Dark Mark.

Screams sounded from all directions. Witches and wizards scattered in a panic, making for the nearest exits. Remus jumped down from the fountain, looking oddly pleased with himself.

"Works every time," he quipped, then saw the look on Tonks's face. "What?"

She sighed, shaking her head.

"You really don't do yourself any favours."

He shrugged, utterly unrepentant.

"Shall we?" he said, gesturing to the emergency stairs. Someone had already kicked in the normally locked door, and witches and wizards were now streaming down the stairs to the lower levels of the Ministry.

A horrible crunching noise sounded from above them, and they looked up en masse. A dark, jagged line had appeared in the arching tiles of the Atrium ceiling. Tonks stared at it incredulously. It couldn't be that far gone already, could it?

"Built by a genius, eh?" she quipped, turning to Remus. He grimaced.

"I'm gonna kill those engineers," he hissed. "Stairs, _now!_ "

They began to run, just as another loud _crunch_ echoed through the Atrium. Tonks glanced up to see that the crack had sprouted another ten metres through the tiles.

"Don't look up, just keep going!" Remus shouted from behind her.

A deafening crack and an odd whistling noise, and the ground behind them suddenly exploded, sending them flying forward in a cloud of dust and rubble. Tonks hit the floor hard and tumbled for several metres, finally coming to a rest against someone else's body. She felt warm liquid trickling down her neck, and for one horrible instant she couldn't tell which way was up.

"Dora! _Dora!_ "

Remus's frantic voice jerked her back into action. She staggered to her feet, hauling Neville Longbottom up with her. A quick glance behind them revealed a boulder the size of a mountain troll lodged in the floor. Bits of tile and concrete had shattered on impact, sending shrapnel flying in all directions. Mere feet from where it had landed, Remus was dragging Ron to his feet by his shirt collar. The boy was bleeding heavily from a nasty cut on his temple. Cursing loudly, Tonks turned back to her other teenage charges.

"Come on, you lot!" she cried, pushing Neville toward the stairs. They sprinted the remaining distance and Tonks felt a surge of relief as the first few students disappeared down the steps. She shoved Neville after them, only to find herself face to face with Harry and Hermione.

" _Go!_ " she cried, gesticulating furiously at the stairs.

"But _Ron!_ "

Tonks looked back. Sure enough, Ron and Remus had fallen behind. It looked like shrapnel from the fallen boulder had also hit the red-haired boy's leg, and he was struggling to walk. Remus had his wand out, and Tonks recognized the familiar swish and flick of a levitating charm. The boy had just left the ground when another chunk of concrete shattered on the ground several metres from the pair. Remus's body twisted and he fell hard, Ron coming back down to earth beside him.

Tonks didn't give herself time to think. She threw herself back into the fray, leaping over the remnants of what used to be a beautifully tiled floor. She skidded to a halt at Remus's side, grabbing his arm and hauling him to his feet. He looked shaken, but mostly unhurt.

" _Help!_ "

A desperate voice sounded dimly over the thunderous booms of concrete and boulders hitting the Atrium floor all around them. The world was getting darker, a dusty haze descending upon the chaotic scene. But Tonks and Remus could just make out a frantically waving hand near the lifts. They turned to look at each other with wide eyes.

"You take Ron," they both said simultaneously.

"No, _you_ take him," Remus insisted.

"Your wand just broke, idiot!" Tonks exclaimed, pointing down at the shattered bit of wood in the werewolf's hand. He held it up, blinking at it incredulously.

"You take Ron, I'll get them!" she cried, gesturing toward the cries for help.

"Oh for goodness sake, _we'll_ take him!"

A familiar bossy voice ended their debate. Harry and Hermione were clearly unimpressed by the Aurors' rescue efforts. The bushy-haired girl was already levitating Ron in the direction of the stairs.

" _Go!_ " she cried over her shoulder. "We'll be fine!"

Tonks and Remus didn't hesitate. They sprinted in the direction of the lifts.

"Over here!"

The man's voice was exhausted and terrified. As the dust cleared and they saw him for the first time, Tonks could understand why. He was sitting on the ground, a young woman's head in his lap. A gigantic boulder was embedded in the floor next to them, pinning the woman's leg ruthlessly to the floor.

" _Fuck_ ," Tonks exclaimed.

"I can't leave her," the man said, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. "She'll die."

A shock ran through Tonks as she recognized him as the WCU officer who had taunted them in the lift. He looked entirely different when his face wasn't twisted into an unpleasant leer. He was probably in his mid-forties, black hair greying at the temples. His left hand – resting on the unconscious woman's shoulder – bore a wedding ring.

Remus made no indication that he recognised the man at all. He simply crouched down, examining the woman's pinned leg with a clinical eye.

"We need to amputate," he said grimly.

"No!" the officer screamed, his eyes wide and desperate. "No, can't we…"

"What?" Remus demanded. "If you have other suggestions, I'm all ears."

The man mouthed wordlessly at the werewolf, his breath rapid and shallow.

"Right," Lupin grunted. "Tonks, your wand please."

Tonks handed it to him instantly.

"Do you know what you're doing?" she asked, wincing as she looked at the mangled remains of the woman's leg. There was an awful lot of blood down there, but not as much as she might have expected. Perhaps the weight of the boulder was controlling the bleeding. Remus nodded shortly.

"'Course I do," he grunted, holding the wand like a scalpel over the woman's thigh. "Just be glad she's unconscious."

The sound of a limb being amputated was entirely unpleasant. Tonks struggled not to be sick as Remus's spell severed muscle, artery, and bone. The sickening smell of burnt flesh filled the air and she looked down to see that he was cauterizing the wound as he was creating it. She lost her battle with nausea, turning around and emptying her stomach on the floor. As she wiped her mouth, she glanced over to see that the WCU officer wasn't faring much better. His eyes were fixed on what Remus was doing, his eyes wide and his face deathly pale.

"What's your name?" she asked, trying to distract both him and herself. He blinked, then looked at her.

"Damian," he said gruffly. "Sorry I was a prat to you earlier."

She shrugged.

"'S'okay, we were planning to get you back with a dungbomb in your desk."

He let out a hysterical chuckle.

"Fair enough."

Tonks jerked her head at the unconscious woman in his lap.

"She your wife?"

He shook his head numbly.

"No. I don't know who she is. I just… couldn't leave her."

Tonks blinked at him. Not for the first time, she found herself marveling at the complexities of human nature.

"That was good of you, Damian. She'll be okay, I promise."

Remus let out a triumphant yell. The horrible procedure was done. He shoved Tonks's wand back into her hand.

"Come on!" he cried, pulling the unconscious woman into his arms and staggering to his feet. Tonks grabbed Damian by the arm and hauled him up as well. They were about to head back to the stairs when an almighty groan sounded from above. They looked up, but most of the lights were out and thick dust was swirling through the green remnants of the Dark Mark. They couldn't see what was coming, but a deafening series of cracks and the screech of rending metal told them everything they needed to know.

" _Lifts!_ " Remus screamed. Tonks turned and blasted the lift doors off with her wand.

"Jump!" she cried, pushing Damian into the open shaft and leaping in after him. They plummeted headlong into blackness and she pointed her wand between her feet, casting a cushion charm on the top of the lift below them. She landed in a heap next to Damian and only just managed to roll out of the way before Remus crashed down beside her, the unconscious woman still in his arms.

An ominous rumble sounded from above. Dust and bits of concrete began to rain down on them. Tonks swore loudly and began to cut a hole in the top of the lift. She couldn't just blast her way in, or they may end up plummeting to their deaths. But the crash of boulders falling above told her that time was running out.

Remus let out a pained grunt from beside her. Damian let out a horrified gasp. But she kept working. Finally, she had a hole big enough for them to fit through.

"Come on!" she cried, grabbing Damian's shirtsleeve. But he wasn't looking at her. He was looking straight up. She followed his gaze and gasped.

The lift shaft above them was full of stone and concrete. It was hovering there, as if waiting for them to finish their business. Tonks turned wide eyes to Remus. He was lying on his back, his hands in the air, his jaw clenched tightly. He was using wandless magic to keep them alive.

"Damian…" Tonks said, her eyes still fixed on Remus. "Get the girl out of here."

The officer followed her orders silently and efficiently. He dragged the woman through the hole Tonks had made, carrying her out of the lift and into the hallway beyond. Then he came back.

"Let's go, you two," he said, his voice shaking. Tonks rested a hand on Remus's leg, forcing herself to remain calm.

"Remus?" she cajoled. "Come on."

" _… go…_ " the werewolf hissed through clenched teeth. McGonagall's lessons on wandless magic were ringing in Tonks's head, the familiar Scottish brogue providing a bizarre sort of comfort.

_… wands were invented for a reason. Without them we can wield more power, but we also have less control. If you're not careful, you'll exhaust yourself. Use too much, and you'll die quite horribly…_

"Remus, I'm not leaving you here," Tonks said steadily.

"… can't… hold it…"

Tonks raised her wand and cast the strongest shield charm she could think of, but she knew it wouldn't last a second under the weight of half the Atrium's ceiling.

"You're just going to have to hold it until we both get out of here," she growled, "because I'm _not leaving you_."

A stream of blood suddenly gushed from Remus's nose. He choked, and the stones above them shifted.

"… Dora, _please_ – "

But she was done arguing the point. She grabbed his shirt and heaved him towards the hole. The debris above them groaned and lowered several feet, but it held. Remus's eyes were now closed tightly, his face twisted with pain. Tonks jumped down into the lift next to Damian. The large man looked at her grimly.

"You pull him through that hole and he'll lose concentration," he said. "You'll have half a second. If that."

"I'll just have to get it right, then," Tonks said, her jaw set with determination. Damian looked her up and down, clearly coming to some sort of decision.

For such a large man, he moved remarkably quickly. He grabbed her around the waist and threw her bodily out of the lift. Then he reached up and pulled Remus through the hole. Stone shifted against the lift shaft with a horrible scraping noise and Damian heaved the werewolf into the hallway, leaping out himself just as the rubble carried the small metal box out of sight in a blinding cloud of dust and debris.

A strange sort of silence descended upon them. The hiss of dust settling was oddly peaceful. Then Tonks let out a hacking cough.

"Damian? Remus? You alive?"

Two groans answered her.

"… sorta wish I wasn't…" the werewolf mumbled. Tonks snorted, fumbling in the dusty gloom for her wand.

" _Lumos_."

The light showed Damian staggering to his feet, shaking dust out of his hair. The unconscious woman was lying next to Tonks, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Remus was crumpled against the wall opposite the lift doors, clearly in a considerable amount of pain.

" _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…_ " he was mumbling under his breath. Tonks stumbled over to him, falling to her knees at his side.

"What can I do?"

The werewolf let out a breathless chuckle through red teeth. The entire bottom half of his face was caked with blood from his nose, but it looked like the bleeding had stopped.

"Got any whiskey?" he asked. Tonks chuckled.

"I'm all out, sorry mate."

"Pity."

She reached a comforting hand forward but he flinched away, shaking his head.

"Don't… don't touch me. Might infect you."

"You're not going to die on me, are you?"

"Eventually, yes. Don't think it'll be today, though."

Tonks's shoulders sank with relief. Suddenly her hands were trembling.

"Thank fucking Merlin," she breathed. "Gods, can we never do something like that ever again?"

He let out a rather hysterical giggle.

"Oh I don't know," he said sarcastically, pushing himself to a sitting position with a painful wince. "That was rather exciting."

"In a 'we're actually about to die' sort of way."

"Really gets the blood flowing, doesn't it?"

"I hate to interrupt," Damian said drily, "but this woman needs medical attention."

They glanced over to see him crouching beside the unconscious woman. Now that the threat of death wasn't – quite literally – hanging over their heads, Tonks could spare a moment to note the woman's fashionable clothing and long brown hair. She looked vaguely familiar, but the copious amount of blood staining what remained of her jeans distracted Tonks from any attempt at putting a name to the pretty face.

"We have medical supplies in the Auror office," she informed Damian. A glance over her shoulder at the sign next to the lifts revealed that they were one floor up.

"Let's hope the stairs are clear," she said, turning back to Remus. "You okay to walk?"

He scoffed weakly.

"Please. I eat shit like this for breakfast."

"Mmm," Tonks hummed skeptically. "I prefer beans on toast."

"You're a savage. Beans are the work of the devil."

Tonks snorted. Remus had managed to get to his feet, shooing away her offers to help. He was now leaning heavily against the wall with his eyes shut, breathing deeply through his nose. The stone wall behind him was smeared with blood, but Tonks knew he would shy away from any attempt to examine his injuries.

"You alright, mate?" Damian asked, examining the werewolf uncertainly.

"Not really," Remus mumbled. "But I'm better than I would be if it weren't for you. I owe you one."

"You don't owe me anything," Damian grunted. "I just doubted your girlfriend's ability to throw you around as easily as I can. I wasn't too keen on watching you both get crushed by several tons of rock."

"I wasn't too keen on _being_ crushed, to be honest," Tonks replied, shooting the large man a crooked smile. "What do you think Remus? Shall we forego the dungbomb in his desk?"

"Mmm, probably," Remus said absently, looking like he was on the verge of falling asleep against the wall. "Portable Swamp is still fair game though…"

Damian snorted, gathering the unconscious woman into his arms and standing up.

"Come on," he growled at them. "You can plot your revenge in the Auror office."

It took longer than Tonks would have liked to find a staircase that wasn't blocked by rubble. By the time they found their way to the floor below, Remus was shaking like a leaf in a gale and Tonks wasn't feeling all that great herself. The shock was finally getting to her, and the various cuts and bruises she had acquired were starting to hurt like hell. When they piled through the Auror office door, however, they were greeted like conquering heroes.

"Thank _god_ – "

"Where have you two _been?_ "

"Shit, she's missing a leg – "

"Isn't that the bloke from the lift?"

"How did you lot get out of there?"

Before Tonks knew what was happening, she was engulfed in Alastor Moody's tight embrace. The old man squeezed her to his chest so hard that she struggled to breathe.

"Hey Mad-Eye," she coughed. "Guess you missed me."

"Bloody hell, girl," he growled in her ear. "Don't ever do something like that again, we thought you were _dead_."

"Woulda been if it weren't for Remus," she said, extricating herself awkwardly from her boss's arms. "He held up a few tons of rock with his bare hands. And some wandless magic."

Everyone turned to look at the werewolf, but he wasn't paying attention. He was making a beeline for the large rubbish bin next to the coffee machine. Tonks winced as he leaned over it and retched, bracing his hand against the wall as his body shuddered. She mourned their sandwiches, eaten in vain not even twenty minutes ago.

"For fuck's sake, Lupin," Moody grumbled, making his way over to the younger man. Done emptying the contents of his stomach, Remus wiped his mouth and lowered himself shakily to the floor, propping his back against the cabinet that held all the mugs. He was shivering uncontrollably, his skin white and shining with cold sweat. Not far away, Kingsley was helping Damian situate the unconscious woman on one of the couches. The tall Auror already had medical supplies out for Ron, who was lying on the other couch with his head in Hermione's lap. The rest of the Gryffindors were clustered nearby, in various stages of shock.

"You need to stop doing this to yourself, lad," Moody was saying as he lowered himself into a chair in front of Remus. The werewolf looked utterly miserable, curling in on himself and clutching at his hair with shaking hands.

"What was I 'sposed to do, Moody?" he demanded, his voice sounding higher and younger than normal. "Just give up and let us all die?"

"You could have used your _wand_ , like a normal wizard."

"It broke."

" _Again?_ "

Remus just groaned unhappily.

"'Sides," he continued weakly, "wouldn't have made any difference. No wand could have held up that much rock."

Moody grunted skeptically.

"Well, I'm just glad you're alright."

Remus let out a grunt that sounded more like a whimper. Moody glanced between the miserable werewolf and the exhausted metamorphmagus.

"You two look like hell."

Tonks snorted.

"Gee, thanks Mad Eye."

The old man pulled his wand out of his robes and got to his feet.

"Sit," he ordered Tonks, pointing at the chair he'd just vacated. Wearily, she obeyed, letting him run diagnostic spells over her. As he got to work healing the nasty cut on the back of her neck, she glanced over to see that Kingsley and Damian were wrapping bandages around what remained of the young woman's left leg. She was still unconscious, her face pale and drawn.

"How is she?" Tonks asked. Damian glanced at the pink-haired Auror over his shoulder.

"Surprisingly decent," he replied. "She's lost a lot of blood, obviously. But it was a clean job, and the cauterizing means it's already stopped bleeding. We're disinfecting the wound and wrapping it, but that's about all we can do from here. Once the anti-Apparition wards come down, we'll be able to get her to St. Mungo's. Here's hoping she stays asleep until then, otherwise she'll be in a lot of pain."

"She'll need a blood transfusion," Kingsley chimed in from a chair nearby, "and they'll be able to start growing a new leg for her. But considering what she's been through, she's doing pretty well."

"Good," Tonks said, giving Damian a small smile. The large man quirked his lips in response, then turned back to his self-appointed charge. Tonks shifted her focus to Ron, who was grimacing unhappily on the other couch.

"You alright, Ron?" she asked. The boy looked over at her and nodded.

"Yeah, 'm alright. Apparently my killies tender is broken, whatever that is."

" _Achilles tendon_ , Ron," Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes. "And it's torn, not broken. Honestly, your grasp of anatomy is shocking."

"'Mione, I was almost turned into jelly a few minutes ago," the red-haired boy in her lap griped. "Could you lay off?"

The bushy-haired girl's lips pursed and her brow furrowed. She looked like she was trying very hard not to cry. As if sensing this, Ron reached up and grabbed her hand.

"Hey, 'Mione, I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry."

The girl let out a gasping sob, gripping his hand so tightly his fingers turned white.

"You almost _died_ , Ron," she said, her voice shaking. "You almost died!"

"Yeah, but I didn't," Ron said simply. "I'm _fine._ "

He smiled up at her reassuringly, and Hermione finally nodded, managing a weak smile in return. Ron then turned surprisingly worried eyes on the werewolf sitting beneath the coffee machine.

"How's _he_ doing?"

Both Moody and Tonks turned to look at Remus. The man had fallen asleep on the floor, his arms wrapped tightly around himself and his forehead resting on top of his knees. His ribcage moved in and out with every breath he took. Done with Tonks, Moody began to run diagnostic spells over him.

"If he were going to die, he'd be dead already," the old Auror grunted in response to Ron's question. Tonks raised an eyebrow.

"… that's not overly comforting, Mad Eye."

The old man sighed, feeling the werewolf's forehead with the back of his fingers.

"He'll be fine," he said firmly. "He's been through a lot worse than this. He has a rough few days ahead of him though, his body needs to replenish all the energy he just used up."

The old man reached down and grabbed the werewolf's shoulder. Remus awoke with a jerk and a hiss of pain.

"Lean forward, kid."

Remus obeyed without question, and Tonks swore. The back of his linen shirt was soaked with blood. Small holes in the fabric revealed the source of the wounds – shrapnel from the two near misses in the Atrium.

"Shit," Moody grumbled. "I hope you weren't too attached to this shirt."

He began to cut the bloodsoaked linen away from Remus's back with his wand. Tonks furrowed her brow.

"Can we get him off the floor?"

"He can come here," Ron called out. Tonks and Moody turned to see him sitting up, his lips pressed together in a thin line of suppressed pain.

"Lie back down, Weasley," Moody snapped. "You can't walk on that leg."

"I wasn't planning on it," the boy said drily. He scooted off the edge of the couch, wincing as he lowered himself to sit on the bright purple shag rug that adorned the break room floor.

"This carpet is horrible," Ron grumbled as Hermione joined him on the ground.

"Preaching to the choir," Tonks agreed, grinning. "Sirius picked it out, he won't let us burn it."

"Come on, Lupin," Moody said, grabbing the werewolf's elbow.

Remus allowed the old man to help him up, grimacing as he finally got to his feet. He was swaying slightly, and what remained of his shirt fell to the floor. Tonks blinked, embarrassingly distracted by the werewolf's bare chest.

He was thin and not overly broad across the shoulders, but his slight frame was rippling with sinewy muscle. Tonks knew plenty of men who put time and effort into their appearance, but none of them looked like this. This was a body that had seen a lifetime of struggle. He was all angles and scar tissue, tattoos and smears of drying blood. She found herself simultaneously attracted and repulsed by him, the latter especially when her eyes finally settled on the largest of his tattoos – the twin snakes that twisted around his upper torso. They were jet black, their shining bodies coiling from his back, under his arms and up his sternum, ending with their fanged mouths opening at the base of his throat.

She had known intellectually that he had a Reaper tattoo. But knowing about it and seeing it in the flesh were two very different things. She'd seen them in history books of course – on black and white images of Greyback or MacIntyre or the countless other infamous psychopaths in Voldemort's employ. The Reapers had worn their mark with pride, just as the Death Eaters had. Many of them had gone so far as to conduct their grisly business half-naked, so their victims knew exactly what they were in for. Seeing that same tattoo now – on the chest of a man she had _kissed_ – was a bizarre and unpleasant experience.

Remus looked too sick and exhausted to notice her reaction to his exposed chest. He simply allowed Moody to guide him to the couch where he collapsed, bracing his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. The room had gone oddly silent, indicating that Tonks was not the only one feeling uncomfortable. Moody shot them all a dark glare before getting to work on Remus's injuries.

The awkward silence stretched on. Everyone was staring at the miserable werewolf on the couch. To Tonks's surprise, it was Damian who finally spoke.

"That's an interesting one, mate," he said casually, pointing at a small, silvery tattoo on Lupin's shoulder. "Where'd you get it?"

There was no indication that Remus had even heard the question. Finally, Moody prodded the man's shoulder. Remus raised his head, blinking at the old man blearily.

"Your mate asked you a question," Moody grunted, continuing to clean the blood away from Lupin's back with practiced flicks of his wand. Remus looked around with bloodshot eyes.

"… what?"

"That tattoo," Damian said, pointing to his own shoulder to demonstrate its location. "Where'd you get it?"

Remus glanced down at the mark in question and froze. He didn't speak for a long moment. Then he swallowed.

"Just a clan marking," he replied dismissively, burying his face in his hands again.

"Liar."

The tension in the room suddenly skyrocketed. Damian was glaring at Lupin, his lips pressed together in an angry line.

"That's a Ministry tattoo," he hissed, jerking his chin at the mark. "We used to put silver marks like that on werewolves so they would show up even after they'd transformed. But we haven't done it in _decades_ , the werewolf rights groups didn't like it."

"You've got it wrong, mate. It's a clan mark, nothing more."

"Why would you make a tattoo out of ink that constantly burns you?" Damian asked incredulously. "Stop lying to me, kid. You got that here, in the Ministry. I thought you grew up in the packs."

"I did!" Remus snarled angrily.

"Sit still, Lupin," Moody snapped from beside him.

"What are you hiding?" Damian demanded. "I've read your files, you said you were born in the Lothian pack. Rather handy that they're all dead."

Remus flinched, but Damian wasn't about to let up.

"Nobody alive can vouch for you, all we have is your word," he said, rising slowly to his feet. "And seeing as werewolves are immune to Veritaserum, your word isn't worth all that much is it?"

"Damian, what is your point?" Tonks demanded angrily. While the Reaper tattoo had her a bit shaken, she still cared for Remus quite a lot, and the man looked like he was on the verge of tears.

"That he isn't who he says he is!" Damian shouted, leveling a shaking finger at Lupin. "He can't have grown up in the packs. That mark has been on his shoulder for at least twenty-five years, meaning that he came through Beast Division before he was, what… _seven_? Alphas don't bring their little mongrels in to the Ministry to be registered!"

Remus had stopped protesting. His body was now shaking uncontrollably, his eyes darting around as though searching for an escape route. He pulled free from Moody's hands, ignoring the old man's protests as he practically threw himself across the room towards his desk. Tonks jumped to her feet, pointing a warning finger at Damian as the man started to follow the upset werewolf.

"Stay away from him," she hissed. "I don't know what your problem is, but leave him the fuck alone!"

With that, she turned and followed Remus over to his desk. The distraught man was pulling open drawers and rifling through his belongings.

"What are you looking for?"

"… a shirt," he replied, wiping the back of his hand over his eyes. "I thought I had a spare one here…"

"Kings!" Tonks shouted over her shoulder. "You got a jumper or something that Remus can borrow?"

"Yeah, mate," Kingsley replied immediately, leaping to his feet and running to his desk. He grabbed a maroon hoody off the back of his chair and threw it to Tonks, who shot him a grateful smile.

"Here," she said, holding the hoody out like a peace offering. The shivering werewolf grabbed it and pulled it over his head, visibly relaxing as the oversized garment covered his bare torso. He seemed to shrink, his eyes closing as he almost collapsed against the side of his desk and buried his face in his hands.

"Hey," Tonks whispered soothingly, stepping closer to him. She reached out a tentative hand and gripped his bicep. When he didn't react she stepped even closer, leaning her whole body against his as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"It's okay," she whispered. "It's okay."

He finally responded to her embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around her and clinging to her like a lifeline. He was shuddering, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.

"'m sorry, 'm sorry, 'm sorry…" he whispered over and over again in her ear. Hot tears dripped onto the skin at the base of her neck. Tonks spared a brief moment to wonder whether this was her superpower – making Remus cry. She ran a firm hand up the back of his neck and into his hair, shushing him like she would a child.

After several long minutes, his breathing finally steadied. He pulled back far enough to lean his forehead against hers. She looked up at him but his eyes were still closed. She took the opportunity to examine the scars running down his left cheek, the curve of his nose where it had obviously been broken, the long brown eyelashes that were currently stuck together with drying tears. His face was still crusted with blood from his nose, and she ran a quick cleaning charm over him. Now at least he didn't look quite so much like a wild animal.

"… 'm sorry about the tattoos…" he finally mumbled, still not looking at her. "I know they're horrible."

So he hadn't been as unaware of her reaction as she'd hoped. Tonks grimaced.

"Oh, Remus," she replied unhappily, running a hand down his cheek. "I just… wasn't prepared for them."

He let out a mirthless chuckle.

"I'm still not prepared for them, and they're on my fucking body."

She didn't know how to respond to that, so she just squeezed him a bit tighter to her.

"… if it makes you feel any better, there are certain… other aspects of you that I find quite appealing."

This time his chuckle carried genuine humor. He opened his eyes and swallowed, hesitating.

"I wasn't raised in the packs, not at first," he whispered. "I lied to you. I lied to everyone."

"Okay," she responded simply. "I'm sure you had a good reason."

He grimaced.

"A few, actually."

"… do you want to talk about it?"

"… no."

"Fair enough. I told Damian to fuck off. But can you let Moody finish with your back? You can keep the jumper on, just pull it up a bit."

He nodded wearily. But his grip on her didn't loosen.

"When d'you think we'll be able to get out of here?" he asked. "I'm really tired of the teenage audience for all my drama."

Tonks laughed.

"They're really seeing a different side of you today, aren't they?"

Remus sighed wearily, running a hand down his face. He scrubbed at his eyes, trying to remove any sign of tears.

"You really think they're going to care if you've been crying?" Tonks asked, running her thumb along his stubbled jawline. "You're only human, Remus. Let them see that."

As if to prove her point, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. After an initial jerk of surprise, he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, wrapping his large hand around the back of her neck. He tasted a bit like sick, but then she probably did too. By the time they finally parted, they were both breathing heavily.

A wolf whistle from the sofas called them back to earth. They glanced over to find Kingsley grinning at them and waggling his eyebrows.

"'Bout bloody time, Lupin!" the tall Auror called out over the desks. Remus let out an exhausted yet genuine laugh, shooting Kingsley a rude gesture with his fingers as he buried his face in Tonks's neck again. Tonks grinned at her colleague, then turned to deposit a kiss on Remus's temple.

"Come on," she whispered in his ear. "Let's get you healed up."

He let her lead him back to the sofas by the hand. Tonks glared pointedly at Damian as they passed him and he had the good sense to remain silent, though it looked like his curiosity was far from satisfied.

"Hey," Kingsley said, raising his eyebrows as they approached, "Gryffindor looks good on you, mate."

Remus furrowed his brow, then looked down at the front of his hoody. Kingsley hadn't given him just any maroon jumper. A familiar golden lion was emblazoned on it. Tonks let out a surprised laugh.

"It _does_ look good on you!" she exclaimed. "Really accentuates your eyes."

Remus shot her a rueful glance, looking extremely self-conscious. Moody took pity on him.

"Get over here, kid," he growled. "You ran off before I'd finished. Shacklebolt, you'll have to wash that jumper when you get it back."

"I dunno, boss," Kingsley said as Remus collapsed yet again on the sofa. "I might let him keep it, looks like it was made for him."

"What house are you anyway, Professor?" Hermione asked from the floor. Tonks couldn't help but smile at everyone's attempts to distract Remus from what had just happened.

"No idea," Remus muttered as Moody resumed the work on his back.

"Dumbledore never put the Sorting Hat on you?"

Remus furrowed his brow at the girl.

"Why would he do that?"

She shrugged.

"Dunno. To make you feel like you belonged, I guess."

Remus didn't reply. He just winced as Moody removed a particularly large shard of marble from his side.

"I think he's in Ravenclaw," one of the other girls – Tonks had already forgotten her name – said.

"Nah, he's in Slytherin," Dean said, shaking his head. "Not everyone in Slytherin turns out bad, though."

Remus couldn't help but laugh at this.

"Thanks, Dean," he grunted. Tonks grinned.

"If you're _really_ lucky," she teased, "you might end up in Hufflepuff with me. We all know everyone secretly wants to be a 'Puff."

Her words were met with laughter and good-natured ribbing. The air of tension was finally broken. Remus looked at Tonks, his eyes conveying emotions she didn't quite know how to deal with yet. She smiled at him, her face flushing.

With a sigh, Damian stood up again.

"I'm off," he grunted. "The others probably think I'm dead, I'll have to inform them otherwise."

Tonks looked up at him but didn't speak. She still hadn't forgiven him. He was staring at Remus intently, but the werewolf's eyes were now fixed on the floor.

"… thank you," the officer finally said, shifting on his feet. "You had no reason to help me."

Remus shrugged, not looking up.

"You had no reason to help _her_ , either," he said, jerking his head at the injured woman.

"True," Damian admitted. " _She_ didn't try to kill me a month ago, though."

Remus finally looked up, a surprisingly rueful expression on his face.

"Mate, even Moody's tried to kill me," he said, gesturing over his shoulder at the old man. "Just don't point a gun at Tonks again and we'll call it even, alright?"

Tonks raised her eyebrows at her boss, but he just rolled his eyes and shook his head. She made a mental note to ask him about it later. Meanwhile, Damian was giving Remus an oddly appraising look.

"Alright," he said, nodding. He turned to leave, hesitated, then looked back.

"Lupin… that mark on your shoulder – "

The werewolf stiffened.

"Just _leave_ it – "

" – I know there's a story behind it," Damian continued stubbornly. "And I'm willing to bet it's not a pleasant one."

Remus just glared at the man, his lips pulled into a thin, angry line. Damian sighed wearily.

"You know we would have treated you differently, right?" he asked, shaking his head. "If we'd known about that on the Knight Bus."

"Why?" Remus hissed. "Why does it make any goddamned difference?"

"Because you were in our system!" Damian cried. "You should have been under our protection, and somehow those bastards got a hold of you anyway. Did you actually _choose_ to be a Reaper?"

" _Yes_ ," Remus snarled. "Nobody coerced me into it, if that's what you're asking. Believe it or not, I had some very good reasons for hating the Ministry and everything it stood for."

"Why? What did we do to you?"

It was a genuine question. But Remus had resumed his thorough inspection of the purple carpet beneath his feet. He was done talking. Damian let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand down his face.

"Look, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know we don't have the best track record. Umbridge was a bad egg, and she dragged us all along with her. Some of her policies made so much sense that it was hard to stand up to her when she started going off the deep end. But things are changing. We're trying to clean house."

Remus snorted, still staring at the floor.

"Crowther, trying to clean house? You were better off with Umbridge, honestly."

Damian froze, his eyes suddenly very serious.

"What do you know about Crowther?"

No response. To Tonks's surprise, Damian actually knelt down in front of Remus, trying to catch the werewolf's eye.

"What do you know about Crowther?" he repeated, urgently this time. Remus physically shrank away from the older man, and Moody finally decided he'd had enough.

"What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?" he snarled, standing up and shoving Damian away. "I thought you had to leave!"

Damian backed off, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Alright, alright," he said. "I'm done."

He gave Remus one last searching look, then turned to Kingsley.

"Look after her for me, will you?" he asked, jerking his chin at the woman on the couch. "Make sure she gets to St. Mungo's."

Kingsley nodded mutely and Damian finally stalked out of the room, leaving another awkward silence in his wake. Everyone was staring at Remus again and he grimaced, pulling the back of his jumper down and getting to his feet.

"Who's Crowther?" Harry finally asked as the werewolf made his way to the coffee machine and grabbed the closest mug.

"The new head of Beast Division," Moody responded gruffly. "He was Umbridge's chief of staff. Can't say he's much of an improvement, to be honest."

"Dora, how do I use this thing without unleashing Christmas carols?" Remus asked testily, staring at the coffee machine like it might explode. Tonks snorted and walked over to him.

"Push the button for a double shot twice, then put in what you want," she explained. "You really going to use that mug?"

Remus held it up. It sported the words _Snuggle This Muggle_ in bright pink script. He shrugged.

"I'm not a Muggle, but I could use some snuggles," he muttered, shooting her an exhausted smile. He set his coffee brewing then turned around, bracing himself against the counter.

"Is anyone dealing with the fucking anti-Apparition wards?" he asked nobody in particular, then jerked his head at the unconscious woman. "We need to get her to St. Mungo's, shouldn't they be down by now?"

Moody had clearly been wondering the same thing. His arms were crossed over his chest, his brow furrowed in thought.

"They really should be," he agreed. "I was with the Minister when the ceiling fell, I thought he went to dismantle them. 'Course, there were people running all over the place screaming about the Dark Mark and the sky falling. Maybe he got side-tracked."

"Why are there anti-Apparition wards down here?" Hermione asked curiously.

Moody grimaced.

"Some bloke from Muggle Relations accidentally Apparated into the bedrock two years ago. Fudge has insisted on anti-Apparition wards throughout the Ministry ever since. Load of bollocks in my opinion."

"Yep," Kingsley agreed. "Leaves us relying solely on Floos down here, and seeing as they're offline…"

He gestured toward the Floo on the other side of the room. Normally filled with cheerfully crackling flames, the grate was cold and black.

"I think our emergency procedures could do with an update," Kingsley said sarcastically.

"Whose idea was it to build the Ministry underground, anyway?" Tonks asked.

"Phinneus Bigglesworth," Remus said, grabbing his finished coffee and blowing on it. "Same bloke who designed the Atrium, funnily enough."

"Well, I'd like to give old Bigglesworth a black eye."

Remus snorted.

"He's very dead, I think that would be difficult."

"I'll find a way," Tonks insisted, crossing her arms. "The Department of Mysteries has Time Turners, right?"

Remus's eyes grinned at her over the _Snuggle This Muggle_ mug. Tonks couldn't help but laugh at the sight.

"I'm getting you that mug for Christmas," she said. He quirked his eyebrows mischievously at her.

"You going to gift wrap that too?"

Her cheeks went brilliantly red and his face split into a triumphant grin.

"You'll just have to wait and see," she replied primly, arching a regal eyebrow at him.

"Mmm…" he hummed, eyeing her as he took another sip of his coffee. She resisted the urge to poke him in the stomach. Moody cleared his throat awkwardly over by the sofas.

"So…" he began, obviously trying to sound casual, "… when did _this_ start?"

He gestured between Lupin and Tonks, his magical eye boring into them in turn. Tonks gulped and glanced at Remus, who looked utterly mortified by the question.

"… erm…" she stammered, blinking rapidly. She heard muffled sniggers from the teenagers around her. Remus hid his face behind his coffee, almost choking as some of it went down the wrong pipe. Tonks couldn't help but laugh.

"… it hasn't even been a week, sir," she finally managed to get out. "We're not… breaking any Ministry rules, are we?"

Moody didn't respond. He sighed deeply and got to his feet, shoving his right hand deep into the pocket of his robes. Tonks and Remus watched in confusion as he pulled out a single Galleon and walked over to Kingsley, depositing the money in the younger man's waiting palm.

"Called it," Kingsley said triumphantly. Moody shook his head at Tonks.

"Couldn't you have jumped him back in October? I would be a Galleon richer right now."

Tonks gaped incredulously at her boss. She suspected that Remus was doing the same because after a moment everyone – Moody, Kingsley, and all the Gryffindors – started to laugh.

"Were you… _betting_ on when we'd get together?!" Tonks finally managed to squeak. Moody shrugged.

"We have to entertain ourselves somehow," he said gruffly. "I had you pegged for October. Kingsley here said it wouldn't be until December."

Tonks and Remus turned to look at each other, unable to keep from laughing.

"Guess I'm not as good at hiding my emotions as I thought," Remus said, shaking his head.

"You're bloody obvious, mate," Kingsley chuckled. "Whenever she goes on a mission without you, you just prowl around and shout at people."

Remus furrowed his brow.

"I do that _all_ the time."

"Ah, but you do it _less_ when Tonks is nearby," Kingsley stated firmly. "Why do you think Moody assigned you those desks?"

They turned mildly accusing eyes on their boss. The old man shrugged.

"What? I had to do _something_ to keep our resident werewolf happy."

Remus let out a bark of laughter, running a weary hand down his face.

"I can't believe this is happening…" he murmured, shaking his head. Tonks grinned at him.

"And you thought you didn't have any friends."

She turned back to Kingsley.

"Does everyone know?" she asked, rather dreading the answer. Thankfully, he shook his head.

"Nah, just the two of us. I think everyone else actively ignores Lupin's presence. No offense, mate."

"None taken."

The office door burst open, and they all turned to see Damian striding back across the room, his face pale as the Bloody Baron. Tonks narrowed her eyes at the man.

"Damian, what are you – "

"You need to get out of here."

The large man had come to a stop directly in front of Remus. He was breathing heavily, his eyes wild and his fists clenched. Remus took a nonchalant sip of his coffee.

"Why?"

"Because they're _coming_ for you, you idiot," Damian hissed. "They think you brought down the ceiling!"

Remus froze. He slowly put the mug down.

"… sorry?"

Damian let out a huff of frustration and stepped forward, grabbing Remus by the arm. He held up what looked like a butterbeer bottle top.

"Take this," he hissed, shoving it into the werewolf's hand. "It's a Portkey, it will take you to the public toilets in the British Library."

Remus furrowed his brow and threw the bottle top back at Damian before the man could activate it.

"I can't take that!" he cried, then pointed to the woman on the couch. " _She's_ the one who needs it, have you had that in your pocket this whole time?!"

"No!" Damian cried. "I snuck it out of Beast Division for you when I heard what was going on! Crowther's getting a warrant from the Minister as we speak, they're coming to arrest you."

"But why?" Tonks demanded angrily. "I don't understand, the ceiling fell because of the massive bloody tunnel the Muggles were digging above it!"

"Anyone with an ounce of sense knows that," Damian hissed, "but there are people out there calling for Lupin's blood. They think he cast the Dark Mark and then brought the ceiling down on purpose."

"Well then, let's go set them straight," Remus said firmly, starting to walk past Damian. "In the meantime, can someone please get that woman to – "

Damian grabbed the front of Remus's jumper, practically lifting the younger man off his feet.

" _Think_ , man! At least a hundred people saw you cast the Dark Mark, you don't have a good history, and you're _magically exhausted_. How are you going to prove that you _didn't_ bring that ceiling down? From what I saw, you might actually be powerful enough to do it!"

Remus shoved the man off him angrily but didn't have a ready answer. He shifted on his feet, suddenly looking uncertain.

"I didn't – "

He looked around the room, then wiped the back of his hand over his mouth nervously.

"I wouldn't _do_ something like that," he said, his voice shaking. "They can't honestly think – "

"They do," Damian said grimly, "and they're coming for you. If Crowther gets his way, you'll await trial in Azkaban."

Remus's face went oddly blank. His eyes dulled, and his fists clenched.

"I'll die in there."

It was not a statement of fear. It was just a cold fact.

"I know," Damian said softly, then held up the bottle top again. "Please, kid. Take the fucking Portkey."

Remus glanced beyond Damian to the woman lying on the couch.

"Can I take her with – "

"It's only good for one person through anti-Apparition wards," Damian said, shaking his head. "And they're leaving them up specifically to keep _you_ in. Get yourself out of here, then we'll take her to St. Mungo's."

Remus's eyes darted to Tonks. He looked more frightened than she'd ever seen him. She forced an encouraging smile for him, though she could feel her lips trembling.

"You know where to go," she whispered. He swallowed.

"I didn't do it. You know that, don't you?"

She let out a huff of almost hysterical laughter and stepped forward, grabbing the front of his jumper and pulling him down for one last desperate kiss.

"Of course I do, you idiot," she said, fighting back tears as she leaned her forehead against his. "Now get out of here, _please_."

She took a step back, turning anxious eyes to Damian. The officer was still holding out the bottle top. With an unhappy grimace, Remus took it. Glancing up at the older man, he furrowed his brow.

"Why are you doing this? I thought you hated me."

"So did I, Lupin," Damian said simply, then tapped the bottle cap with the tip of his wand. With a crack, Remus disappeared.

"So did I."


	4. Chapter 4

"So you have no idea where he went?"

"None, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

Abraham Crowther sighed deeply and reached up to pat Damian on the shoulder.

"It's alright, Dempsey. I'm sure you did your best."

The old man turned pale blue eyes on Tonks and Moody, who were standing in front of the Gryffindors and the injured woman on the couch. Remus hadn't been gone thirty seconds before WCU officers flooded into the Auror office, warrant for the werewolf's arrest in hand.

"I must say, I'm disappointed in you Alastor," Crowther said quietly. "The werewolf was your responsibility, _you_ vouched for him when he came to work here. How could you let this happen?"

Moody bristled, his magical eye whirling in its socket.

"It's not my fault the man had a portkey in his desk," he snapped. "Besides, I'm not convinced he's guilty."

Crowther blinked.

"Not _guilty_?" he repeated, his soft voice incredulous. "He Who Must Not Be Named recruited that boy specifically to take down buildings! His power far outstrips any normal wizard's, an already weakened ceiling would be child's play to him."

"Maybe when he was seventeen," Moody countered testily, "but I know for a fact he's been magically exhausted at least six times since then. He doesn't have the strength now to do what you're accusing him of."

"Perhaps…" the old man said, stroking his short white beard absently. He was a small man – barely taller than Tonks – with shrewd blue eyes and gracile, almost effeminate features. He was clad in bright green robes and a well-tailored grey suit, argyle socks peeking out at his ankles. Small gold hoops dangled from his earlobes. He turned his searching gaze to Tonks, looking her briskly up and down.

"What do _you_ think, Miss… ?"

"Tonks, sir," she said, forcing the animosity out of her voice. "And I agree with Mad Eye. I was with him in the Atrium, he couldn't possibly have caused the collapse."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I was talking to him the whole time!"

"My dear," Crowther condescended, "men like Lupin can talk to a pretty girl and carry out complex non-verbal spells at the same time. Your presence does nothing to absolve him."

"But he's not like that!" she snapped. "He's not violent, he wouldn't – "

"Not _violent?!_ " the old man repeated again, laughing this time. "My word, you two have interesting opinions. The man is a werewolf and a Reaper, Miss Tonks. Violence is his first language."

She was opening her mouth for another furious retort when a young WCU officer burst through the door. Crowther had whispered instructions in his ear several minutes earlier, and the man had run off. Clearly, his errand had been successful.

"You were right, sir!" he cried eagerly, weaving his way through the maze of desks. "One of them is missing!"

"Ah, yes," Crowther sighed, turning disappointed eyes to Damian. The large man's throat bobbed and he shot an uncomfortable glance at Tonks and Moody.

"Which one?" Crowther asked over his shoulder at the young man.

"The British Library."

Crowther let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Why did you do it, Dempsey?"

Damian raised his chin defiantly.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Sir."

Crowther nodded solemnly. Then he turned to the crowd of armed men behind him.

"Right. Grimblethwaite, take six men to the British Library immediately. He almost certainly can't Apparate at this point, so spread out and get searching. I would prefer him alive, but if he puts up a fight don't hesitate to shoot."

Tonks's heart leapt to her throat. She started forward – to do what, she had no idea – but Moody's firm hand on her arm held her back. Crowther pointed at three more of his men.

"You three, go to Lunar District. Lock it down, then have the local guard patrol the streets with you. Lupin's not too popular in there, chances are his own kind will give him up if he tries to hide. Stephenson, Vinaj, get to Hogwarts and search his office and his rooms. Bring me anything that seems out of the ordinary."

As the men hurried away, Crowther pointed to a familiar young officer.

"Mulligan, go check on Lupin's containment charm, I want to know when it was last updated. I'd really prefer not to have to chase him to France or America or some other godforsaken country."

Tonks tried to catch Neil's eye, but he averted his gaze as he turned and ran off. Meanwhile, Crowther looked back at Damian.

"I'm sorry, Dempsey, but you're fired," he said, shaking his head. "I can't have men working for me that I don't trust implicitly."

The large man didn't respond. His lips simply tightened into a thin line. Crowther turned to Moody.

"You have a lot of explaining to do," he said simply. Mad Eye glared at him.

"You didn't really expect us to just hand him over, did you?" he growled. "You were going to throw him in Azkaban to await trial!"

"I was not!" Crowther protested, sounding horrified. "Who told you that?"

Nobody looked at Damian, but they didn't need to. Crowther turned unamused eyes on his former employee.

"Spreading lies about me, were you?"

"It's not a lie," Damian snarled, "I heard you. _'With any luck, he'll be in Azkaban by the end of the day_ ' was the exact phrase."

"Yes, if his trial found him guilty," Crowther snapped. "We're not going to wait around for him to regain his strength. I have it on good authority that the Wizengamot just rejected his petition again. I doubt he'd hesitate to pull down their ceiling too, given the chance."

"For fuck's sake," Tonks burst out angrily, "he's not a psychopath!"

Crowther turned and pierced her with his pale blue eyes.

"I never said he was," he said softly. "But he is powerful, angry, and desperate, and that makes him extremely dangerous. I don't know what sort of hold he has on you, Miss Tonks, but I strongly recommend that you break it."

With that he turned and swept gracefully through the desks on his way to the door.

"Dempsey, Moody," he called over his shoulder, "don't think I'll forget this. Expect my owl when things have calmed down, the Wizengamot will want a word."

"Oy!" Kingsley called out after the old man, jumping to his feet. "When are the wards coming down? This woman needs medical attention!"

"All in good time…" Crowther said dismissively, waving a hand over his shoulder as he rounded the door and disappeared into the hallway. Kingsley swore loudly, turning worried eyes on the still unconscious young woman. Her face was increasingly pale, a thin sheen of cold sweat breaking out on her forehead.

"I can't keep her from going into shock for much longer," the tall Auror said, shaking his head. "We need to get her to St. Mungo's."

Tonks gripped her wand and screwed her eyes shut. The familiar tug of Apparition spun her into space, but she hit what felt like a brick wall and bounced back, landing in a stunned heap on the purple rug next to Ron. She groaned and rubbed her aching temples.

"… they're still up," she informed everyone, as though her failed escape attempt weren't evidence enough.

"That little flobberworm-fucking excuse for a Minister is up to his usual shite," Mad Eye snarled angrily. "Letting people who are smarter and scarier than him do whatever the hell they want."

He reached down and hauled Tonks to her feet, brushing her off with slightly more force than was necessary.

"You lot stay here," he growled. "I'm going to give Fudge something to be scared of…"

He stalked off, leaving Tonks staring helplessly after him.

"The officers he sent after Remus…" she said, turning to Damian, "… are they good shots?"

He nodded grimly. She cursed.

"He'll be fine, Tonks," Kingsley said firmly. "Voldemort himself couldn't kill the man. You really think some WCU blockheads – no offense – will succeed where he failed?"

"He's magically exhausted, Kings!" Tonks cried. "He doesn't have a wand, he's wounded, and it's _freezing_ out there. Even he has limits, we need to find him before they do!"

"We _will_ ," her colleague replied. "Moody will get the wards down, then Damian can bring Ron and the girl to the hospital while we go save your boyfriend."

"He's not my – "

She cut herself off, not entirely sure how to describe Remus's status in her life. She sighed and rolled her eyes, running shaking hands through her pink hair.

"This is all completely disregarding the fact that there might be people buried in the rubble up there," she said, starting to pace. "Bloody hell, we don't have _time_ for this! All those WCU blokes should be up there helping, not chasing an innocent man all over London!"

"Agreed," Damian said roughly.

"Fudge just wants someone to blame," Kingsley said. "He could have avoided this whole fiasco if he'd negotiated more with the Muggle Prime Minister. Gotten the tunnel built ten metres to the left. But now he has blood on his hands, and he's looking to wipe it on Lupin."

"It's not fair," Tonks growled. Kingsley shrugged.

"Life rarely is," he replied ruefully. "If it makes you feel any better, the Magical Accident Reversal Squad is probably in the Atrium already, clearing the rubble."

She nodded absently, letting out a long sigh. Kingsley sat back down and ran his wand over his patient. The Gryffindors began to talk quietly amongst themselves, and Tonks wandered off amongst the desks, trying to work off her nervous energy.

Her pacing inevitably led her to Remus's desk, and she stared down at it. His Slytherin mug was still half full of old coffee, and papers were strewn about haphazardly, covered in splotches of ink and coffee stains. There were no picture frames on his desk, no photographs of loved ones smiling and waving at him. There were, however, an abundance of small doodles covering nearly every inch of his Ministry-issued paper desk pad. One in particular caught her eye, peeking out from underneath a standard arrest form. She moved the parchment aside and blinked.

It was a rough sketch of her own face. It had clearly been drawn from life, as he had included her desk and her favorite mug – a bright yellow monstrosity bearing the words _I Puffed the Magic Dragon_. She was grinning at him, one eyebrow arched in playful amusement. It was not the most artistic doodle she'd ever seen – the brusque lines indicated that he had drawn it in a hurry – but it was surprisingly detailed and captured her personality quite well. She smiled down at it for a long moment, then covered it up again with the arrest form.

"Bit of a messy bugger, isn't he?"

She jumped and looked up. Damian stood not too far away, eyeing the untidy stacks of parchment on Lupin's desk. She let out a shaky laugh.

"Yes, he's… not very organized."

The large man shot her an appraising glance.

"Why do you like him, anyway?" he asked. "You're a metamorphmagus, you could have just about any bloke you want. Why _him?_ "

She glared at him.

"Maybe because he's never asked me to be anything other than myself," she snapped. He immediately looked embarrassed.

"That's – that's not what I meant," he stammered.

She sighed deeply and sank down into Remus's chair.

"I know," she said. "Sorry, I'm just… out of sorts right now."

"Your friend is right, you know," he said, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "I don't think you should worry about him all that much. He wiped the floor with six of us on the Knight Bus, and that was with my bullet in his shoulder. He knows how to take care of himself."

"Yeah," Tonks mumbled. "I just wish I was there to watch his back."

Damian clearly didn't know how to respond to this. He stood there awkwardly for another moment, then turned to leave.

"I'm sorry you lost your job," Tonks said suddenly. "You did the right thing, though."

"Yeah, well," he grunted, grimacing, "I was thinking about quitting anyway."

"Were you?"

"… sort of," he admitted. "Some of us are getting tired of how things are done in Beast Division. What Umbridge threatened to do on the Knight Bus was beyond the pale, at least in my opinion. Seeing that Ministry tattoo on Lupin's shoulder makes it even worse…"

He trailed off, staring off into space. Tonks furrowed her brow.

"Why are you so obsessed with that thing?"

He turned fierce grey eyes on her.

"I just don't have a good feeling about it," he growled. "Lupin seemed genuinely afraid when I asked him about Crowther, did you notice that?"

"… yes," she replied warily. "He's the head of Beast Division though, he has quite a lot of power over Remus."

"No, it was more than that," Damian said, shaking his head. "Lupin knows something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, that's the problem!" Damian snapped. "There have always been rumours about Crowther. The way he talks about werewolves, it's clear he doesn't see them as human."

"Do _you_?" Tonks asked accusingly. Damian bristled.

"Of course I do," he growled. "Doesn't mean I have to like them. A few of Lupin's mates killed my brother and his family during the War, I don't have much sympathy for the more violent of his kind."

Tonks blinked, then looked down at her lap. She picked absently at one of her fingernails.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't know that."

"I don't exactly advertise it," the man snorted in response. "But Lupin would have been a _kid_ when he got that mark. The fact that he was registered within a few years of becoming a Reaper sets off alarm bells in my head."

"Why?"

He shot her an annoyed glance.

"You don't know much about how werewolf registration works, do you?"

Her blank face confirmed his suspicions. He sighed and walked around her desk, taking a seat opposite her.

"When a child is brought in to be registered," he began, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together, "we assign them a case officer. Someone who can help their parents cope, teach them how to administer Wolfsbane, that sort of thing. The case officer is supposed to make a monthly visit until the child turns seventeen. If there are no parents in the picture – or they're deemed unfit for guardianship – then we move the child to our orphanage in Lunar District where they are supervised by trained professionals."

Tonks shifted in her seat. She had a feeling this system was not quite as magnanimous as Damian was making it sound. She didn't voice the opinion, however, and the former WCU officer continued.

"Lupin should have been in the system," he said darkly. "He should have either been with responsible parents who were looking after him, or in the orphanage with all the other children his age. He should _not_ have been anywhere _near_ the Reapers."

"Maybe your system isn't as foolproof as you thought it was," Tonks remarked coolly. Damian's nostrils flared and he let out a long sigh, sinking back in his chair.

"… maybe," he admitted, looking troubled.

"What are the rumours?" she asked. "About Crowther, I mean."

He examined her for a long moment. Then he blinked and shook his head.

"Oh, nothing substantial," he grunted. "Just… rumours. You know."

Tonks blinked at him.

"… no," she said slowly, "I don't."

He hesitated for a moment longer. Then he glanced quickly around the room and leaned forward.

"The man's a war hero, right?" he began, his voice low and soft. "He developed a lot of the weapons we used to fight Greyback and his ilk."

"You mean those horrible guns?"

"Yeah, amongst other things," Damian grunted. "And before you go all weepy and anti-firearm on me, just keep in mind that those guns saved _countless_ lives during the War."

"Yeah, and they almost killed me last month," she countered. "Forgive me if I'm not a huge fan."

His lips quirked.

"Fair enough," he said quietly, then took a deep breath. "Anyway, there are some rather odd things about those – "

The door of the office burst open and Moody lurched back into the room. Tonks would have cursed his timing, were it not for the news he bore.

"Wards are down!" he barked. "Let's move, people! Dempsey, you take Weasley and the girl to St. Mungo's. Shacklebolt, Tonks, help me side-along Apparate this lot to Grimmauld Place. They can take the Floo home from there."

Tonks and Damian shot each other a dark look, then leapt to their feet and hurried over to join Moody near the couches. Ron was trying to pry Hermione's hand off his arm.

"… I'll be _fine_ , 'Mione," the boy said. "Promise. You have to tell my parents what happened, then all of you can pick me up at St. Mungo's."

"I'm coming with you," Hermione snapped, her hand on the boy's forehead. "You have a fever already, my anti-septic spell didn't work…"

"Come on, Hermione," Tonks cajoled, putting her hand on the girl's arm. "Damian needs to take special care with these two because of their injuries, you have to come with us. You'll see Ron soon, I promise."

Hermione hesitated, worried brown eyes fixed on her friend. As Tonks followed her gaze, she could understand why the girl was upset. The youngest Weasley boy was flushed, his eyes bloodshot. Sweat was trickling down his forehead, and even as they watched he began to shiver. Tonks furrowed her brow and glanced at Damian. The large man was bent over the couch, pulling the unconscious woman into his arms.

"Come on, Ron," Tonks grunted, reaching down to haul him up. Hermione hurried to help, and between the two of them they soon had the boy on his feet again.

"… I don't feel so good…" he mumbled.

"I'm not surprised," Tonks said briskly, "you probably have a concussion. The Healers will fix you up, don't worry."

They guided him over to Damian, who was waiting with the girl in his arms. Ron grabbed the former WCU officer's elbow, trying desperately to look as though that wasn't the only thing keeping him upright. He glanced at Hermione, his gaze strangely frightened. Then, with a _crack_ , they were gone.

"Let's go, you lot!" Moody bellowed. He already had four Gryffindors hanging off him.

"You know, we _can_ Apparate," Harry remarked drily. He had yet to choose an Auror transport option. Moody glared at him.

"Not through bedrock, you can't," he growled. "Give it a few years, Potter. Until then, do me a favour and grab hold of someone?"

Harry rolled his eyes, but obligingly grasped Tonks's arm. Hermione and Dean latched on as well, and the pink-haired Auror nodded curtly at her boss. Three deafening _cracks_ later, and the Auror office was empty.

Number 12 Grimmauld Place was a dismal spot at the best of times. Now, coming on half five on a blustery December evening, it was positively ghastly. As the concealed house unfolded from between its neighbours, its dusty windows blank and uninviting, Tonks found herself wondering for the umpteenth time why Sirius still lived here. Her cousin had managed to make the inside of his home livable – even inviting at times, like when all the Christmas decorations were up. But unless Sirius took off the Unplottable Charm, nothing could be done about the abysmal exterior. Every time Tonks came to visit, she couldn't help but imagine how much happier her cousin would be if he lived somewhere else. Somewhere the memories of people long dead would cease to haunt him.

Moody climbed the steps and raised a gnarled fist to knock.

"Oy, Mad-Eye," Tonks objected, dodging around the old man, "I've a key, remember?"

She turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. They piled into the entranceway, everyone letting out a sigh of relief as the door slammed shut and cut off the freezing wind wailing down the street outside. Tonks immediately took off her dusty robes and hung them on the coatrack. Harry and Hermione – frequent visitors at the old house – quickly followed suit. The other Gryffindors were too busy examining their dingy, bizarre surroundings to bother with their attire.

A clatter of footsteps announced the arrival of the master of the house. Sirius was hurrying down the stairs, pulling a jumper haphazardly over his head. He slowed as he reached the bottom, examining the crowd in his entrance hallway with some confusion.

"Tonks?" he asked, bewildered. "What's going on?"

Tonks exchanged a rueful glance with Kingsley. They had a lot of explaining to do.

* * *

"So… you're sure he didn't do it?"

Tonks bit back an exasperated groan.

"For fuck's sake," she snapped, "why does everyone assume he did it?"

Her cousin shrugged, the dying light of the fire flickering across half his face.

"I mean, he pulled Westminster Bridge into the Thames during the War."

"He did?"

"Yeah, something like fifty Muggles drowned."

Tonks blinked. Sirius grimaced.

"It's not like he _enjoyed_ it, he was a fucking wreck afterwards. But he couldn't blow his cover, and we didn't get there in time. He's still sore about it, if you ask me."

Tonks glared at her cousin. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Hermione shifting impatiently on her feet. She and Harry were the only teenagers left in Grimmauld Place. The others were gone – sent back home via Sirius's Floo.

"That sounds like even more evidence that he didn't do it," Tonks growled. "Now are you going to help us look for him, or not?"

"Alright, alright," Sirius said, holding his hands up in defeat. "Let me get a coat at least."

As her cousin padded back up the stairs, Hermione turned to Harry.

"Come on," she said, gesturing him towards the fire. "We have to go to the Burrow."

"Right," the black-haired boy agreed.

"Constant vigilance!" Mad Eye barked. The two teenagers jumped and looked up at the old man with wide eyes.

"Agreed," Kingsley said, his brow furrowed. "I have a bad feeling about all this. Be careful, you two."

They nodded solemnly. Then they disappeared into the fire one at a time. Sirius barreled down the stairs again and they met him in the entranceway.

"The portkey took him to the British Library," Tonks explained, "but he can't be there anymore, Crowther's men are crawling all over the place. I told him to come here, so…"

"He could be anywhere between here and Kings Cross," Sirius finished darkly. "Brilliant. That's only half of London, we'll find him in no time."

"Your sarcasm is greatly appreciated," Kingsley quipped as he opened the door and stepped out onto the dark street. The wind had died down, but the cold, wet air chilled Tonks to the bone as she followed him. The four Aurors clustered together on the icy pavement and pulled out their wands.

"The Apparition point in Russell Square?" Sirius suggested. Moody and Kingsley nodded, but Tonks froze, her eyes fixed on something just over Moody's shoulder.

"Lass?"

"Yes, that's fine," she said loudly. "Shall we?"

With a _crack_ , they all disappeared. But Tonks wasn't going to Russell Square. She landed in an alley a few blocks away from Grimmauld Place, then assessed her options. She had seen movement in the small park opposite her cousin's house, barely ten metres from where they'd been standing. It was probably just Muggle kids, but it never hurt to check. After a moment of hesitation, she screwed up her nose and tried to remember every detail of Abraham Crowther's appearance. Then she swept her wand down her body, transfiguring her filthy Auror robes and purple combat boots into a smart grey suit and leather dress shoes. Examining her handiwork, she made a face. Argyle was the work of the devil. At least she could dispense with the bright green robe, seeing as she was trying to blend in with the Muggles.

She squared her newly broadened shoulders and strode out of the alley. Making her way swiftly back to Grimmauld Place, she walked straight towards the copse of trees in the middle of the small park. As she approached, a muffled curse sounded from the bushes.

"Sir?"

A young man tumbled out of the leaves. His blond hair was sticking in every direction, and Tonks could see a pine cone caught in the mess. A second man stepped more sedately out of the foliage behind him, his calm bearing and grizzled face marking him as a veteran.

"Is something wrong, sir?" the younger man asked eagerly. "D'you need us at the library?"

Tonks blinked, then cleared her throat.

"No," she said authoritatively, doing her very best impression of Crowther's soft drawl. "I just wanted to check in. How's everything going here?"

She winced inwardly. Both men were staring at her oddly. Voices were always her downfall. Not for the first time, she fervently wished it were possible to morph vocal chords.

"It's fine, sir," the older man finally replied. "You were right, they all set off a few minutes ago. I think they said summat 'bout Russell Square, did you hear that Davie?"

The blond man nodded quickly.

"Yes, they were going to Russell Square."

"Excellent," Tonks said, forcing herself to breathe steadily. "I think I'll follow them. Why don't you two join me?"

The two men glanced at each other in obvious confusion.

"… but sir," the young man protested tentatively, and Tonks's stomach lurched, "you told us to keep watch here until Lupin is in custody."

"Ah yes, of course I did," Tonks said, forcing out a chuckle. Her pulse was racing. She needed to get rid of these men before –

"What happened to your earrings, sir?" the older man asked, eyeing her shrewdly.

"I took them off," she quipped immediately. "Turns out I'm allergic to gold."

"Uh huh," he replied, sounding unconvinced. "And the holes just… disappeared, did they?"

It was high time to end this conversation. In an instant, Tonks's wand was pointed at the older man through the pocket of her grey suit jacket.

" _Stupefy!_ "

He went down hard, an expression of angry surprise on his grizzled face. The younger man – clearly not as bright as his compatriot – was still staring at her in confusion when she turned her wand on him. He fell like a sack of bricks, and Tonks sighed with relief. That could have ended quite poorly.

For a moment, she just stared down at the unconscious men. Now what? She couldn't leave them here, what if the real Crowther came by? Nor could she modify their memories and send them on their way. If they went back to the Ministry, Crowther might get a warrant to search Grimmauld Place. There was only one thing for it, really. With another sigh she raised her wand, preparing to levitate them.

The sound of crunching snow on the street distracted Tonks from the task at hand. She glanced out from between the trees and gasped. Remus was hurrying towards Grimmauld Place, his feet slipping on the icy pavement and his arms wrapped tightly around himself. The hood of Kingsley's jumper was pulled up over his head, and every few seconds he raised his eyes to glance warily about. He came to a stop in front of Numbers 11 and 13 and stood waiting for Number 12 to grind slowly into view. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his breath making large clouds in the cold air. With a grin and a shout, Tonks rushed forward to greet him.

He turned, but instead of the smile she'd been expecting, a look of guarded fear settled on his face. He plunged one hand into his pocket, then backed slowly up the Grimmauld Place steps.

"What are you playing at?" he demanded. "I thought we had an agreement."

Tonks came to a stop at the foot of the stairs, momentarily befuddled. At her silence, Remus drew in a sharp breath.

"Look, I didn't tell anyone!" he hissed down at her. "Your secret's safe with me, just like it's always been. Now will you call off your fucking bloodhounds?!"

"Oh, shit," Tonks mumbled. Then she screwed up her nose and returned her features to normal. When she opened her eyes again, Remus was gaping at her.

"Sorry…" she said, shrugging. "I forgot who I was impersonating."

He continued to stare at her, open-mouthed. She took a tentative step forward.

"Hey… hey, it's alright. It's me."

Finally, he let out a strangled moan and sank back against the door, thumping his head against the wood and closing his eyes.

"… holy _fuck_ , Dora," he breathed. "You trying to kill me?"

"No, but _they_ were," she replied, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at the park. "Two WCU blokes were staking out the place, I just took care of them. Hence the morph."

"And the outfit," he remarked, eyes still closed. "How the hell do you know what he looks like?"

"He dropped by the Auror office after you left."

"You make it sound like he came round for tea."

Tonks snorted, running her wand back down her body to dispense of the grey suit and argyle socks.

"I'm afraid not," she said. "I'll fill you in later, okay? Just help me get these two inside, I can't think of anything else to do with them."

Remus took a deep breath, then opened his eyes. He looked her up and down and nodded, clearly pleased by the return to her Auror robes.

"I don't know why I didn't smell you," he grumbled as he followed her down the stairs and across the street. "I should have known it wasn't him."

"Something tells me you were too freaked out to analyze my scent," Tonks said, shooting him a rueful smile over her shoulder. He grimaced.

"I don't like Abraham Crowther," he muttered.

"What a coincidence, neither do I," she quipped. "Care to tell me what that whole _secret_ business is about?"

"Not a chance."

"Figures," Tonks sighed as they came to a stop in front of the two unconscious men. "I think you enjoy being mysterious."

Remus didn't respond. He was glaring down at the WCU officers.

"We could just kill them," he suggested grimly. When Tonks didn't respond, he glanced up.

"What?"

"You're not serious, are you?" she demanded, brow furrowed. He examined her gaze for a long moment.

"… no, I suppose not," he finally mumbled, turning back to the men on the ground. "Sorry, I… I'm not feeling too charitable at the moment. One of these bastards almost got a trank in me at St. Pancras, I think death blew me a kiss as it went by."

Tonks tightened her lips. She slowly reached out and laced her fingers with his.

"I'm glad you're alright," she whispered. He clenched his jaw, then glanced up at her and made a valiant attempt at a smile.

"Yep, still kicking," he said. "At least for now. Let's get these two inside, shall we?"

He bent down and heaved the blond young man into his arms.

"Oh, wait," Tonks protested, holding out her hands. "I forgot you can't do magic right now. Put him down, I'll just levitate them both."

"'s fine, Dora," Remus grunted, already heading for the house. "Just hurry up, will you? It's bloody freezing out here."

Rolling her eyes, Tonks hurried after the stubborn man with the other WCU officer in tow. She fumbled for the key in her pocket, then pushed the door open and led Remus inside.

"Come on, we'll put them in the kitchen."

The werewolf followed her into the dark kitchen, then dumped his human burden unceremoniously on the floor. Tonks heard the young man's head thud against the flagstones and winced.

"What's a trank, anyway?"

"A tranquiliser," Remus grunted as she lit the lamps and the fire with her wand. "They're usually filled with aconite, those just knock you out. They're using silver tonight, though."

"Silver?!" Tonks exclaimed, turning to him in alarm. He nodded grimly.

"Not a fun way to go."

She blinked at him.

"This is bloody ridiculous," she said, letting out a mirthless huff of laughter. "You probably saved a hundred lives today!"

"I don't know about that," he said drily, "but I certainly didn't pull down that ceiling. Crowther knows I can't do shit like that anymore."

"Yet you could at one point."

He shot her an odd look.

"Yes," he replied simply. She tapped her wand against the kettle to set it boiling, then leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms.

"Sirius told me about Westminster Bridge."

"Did he now?" Remus replied, scowling.

"I assume it's classified, since I've never heard of it."

"All the files that make the Ministry and the Order look like useless twats are classified."

Tonks snorted, then reached into the cupboard and pulled out two large mugs.

"Earl Grey? Chamomile?"

Remus was sinking down into a lumpy armchair next to the fire. At her query, he glanced up and hesitated.

"Er… whiskey?"

She smirked at him, then summoned Sirius's Lagavulin from the cupboard's top shelf.

"Two hot toddies, coming up."

"You're a goddess."

"I try," she replied, smiling as she grabbed a lemon from the bowl in the window. Trust Sirius to have all the ingredients. She was just about to spoon honey into one of the mugs when she remembered with a jolt that she hadn't tied up the WCU officers or taken their wands away.

"Shit," she muttered, turning around and brandishing her wand at the two limp bodies on the floor. In seconds they were bound and gagged, and their wands were in her hand. She glanced over to find Remus smirking at her.

"I was wondering when you'd get around to that," he remarked drily, sinking further back into the cushions.

"Watch it, you," she said, narrowing her eyes at him, "or I might just put too much lemon in this."

He gasped dramatically.

"You wouldn't!"

She grinned and turned back to the mugs, spooning generous helpings of honey into each one.

"How did you get here, anyway?"

"Begged a quid from an old lady at St. Pancras who liked my eyes and got the tube."

Tonks shot a teasing look over her shoulder.

"You flirted with a Muggle woman for cash?"

"I didn't _flirt_ ," he protested, "I just… took advantage of my assets."

"Ah, of course."

"She was very chatty, though," he mused as Tonks poured hot water over the honey and whiskey. "That's why Crowther's men caught up to me. She was going on about how much I looked like her son."

"That poor man," Tonks quipped, grinning at the werewolf as she carried the two hot toddies over to the fire.

"Oy!" he protested, laughing. "I've half a mind to give myself up right now, I wouldn't get nearly this much abuse in Azkaban."

"Ah, but would you get whiskey there?"

He smirked and took the mug she held out to him.

"No, I suppose not. Thank you, Dora."

"Of course."

She dragged another armchair up to the fire and took a seat. Putting her mug down on a footstool, she proceeded to untie her boots and kick them off. Then she grabbed her mug again and sat back, tentatively resting one of her feet on Remus's. Her bright yellow sock clashed horribly with the brown leather of his boot. She glanced up to find him staring at her. He hesitated, then seemed to reach some sort of conclusion. Placing his mug on the table next to him, he held his hand out to her. She gave him a curious look, then her hand. He pulled her forward and she happily stood up, crossed over to him, and crawled into his lap. His bony frame was not exactly designed for comfort, and they both chuckled as she squeezed her bum onto the cushion beside him, curling her legs up over his. He wrapped his arms around her and she nestled into his chest, resting her back against the cushioned wing of the armchair and cradling her mug in her hands.

"That's better," he said softly, nudging his nose into her hair.

"Never took you for the cuddling type," she said, smiling. He chuckled and she shivered as his breath ghosted across the skin of her neck.

"I'm not, really," he murmured. "Only with you."

She drew in a shaking breath. Her heart was racing.

"… well, that's good," she managed to squeak. "I'm glad you're not cozying up to other girls like this."

His lips were suddenly on the sensitive skin beneath her ear, and she gasped.

"I don't want any other girl," he growled.

His teeth pulled at her earlobe and her breath hitched. She was going to spill whiskey on him if he kept this up. As if he could hear her thoughts, he took the mug from her and placed it on the table next to his. Then he reached up and cradled her face in his hands.

"I love you," he said fiercely, his eyes burning. "I felt like an idiot last week when I let that slip, but we almost died today, and I was glad you knew how I felt."

Tonks gave him a watery smile, shocked to find tears pooling in her eyes. She couldn't think of a proper response to his words, so she just kissed him. He responded enthusiastically, and as his hands tightened at her waist, she could feel the horror of the day finally overwhelming her. Her kiss became desperate and her cheeks became increasingly wet. Remus broke away, and through a haze of tears she could see his amber eyes examining her with concern and sympathy. The expression was all it took to send her over the edge, and suddenly she was sobbing.

He pulled her into his lap and she clung to him, burying her face in his neck. All she could smell was his skin and all she could feel was the steady rise and fall of his chest. His fingers rubbed soothing circles into her back. He didn't say anything, and she was grateful. She didn't want anyone to tell her it was alright, because it wasn't. Almost five minutes passed before her sobs slowly subsided into general shock and depression.

"… how many people d'you think died in the Atrium today?" she finally whispered. Remus's throat bobbed against her forehead and he took a deep breath.

"I dunno," he replied softly. "Not many, I hope."

She sniffed and tried to surreptitiously wipe her nose on her sleeve. Remus chuckled and pointed to the hood of his jumper.

"It already has werewolf blood on it," he joked softly, "what's some metamorphmagus snot?"

She let out a surprised chuckle.

"How charming," she said, cleaning her face off on the maroon fabric. "We really will have to clean this before we give it back to Kingsley."

"Somehow I doubt it's the first thing on his mind right now," Remus remarked drily. "Where are they, anyway?"

"Off looking for you," she said. "We were all about to leave when I saw movement in the park. I couldn't warn the others without being overheard, so I just Apparated a few blocks away and came back to check it out. I didn't actually expect it to be anything."

"But it was," he said softly. "You probably saved my life, Dora."

She swallowed, examining his amber eyes for a long moment.

"I'm really glad you're okay," she finally said, fighting back a lump in her throat. "Life would be much less enjoyable without you."

A slow grin spread across his face, and he squeezed her.

"Well, I'll do my best to keep on living, then."

She nodded firmly, then let her head sink down on his shoulder again. The familiar scent of wood smoke and soap filled her nostrils. Suddenly, she was beyond exhausted.

"… don't answer the door for anyone, okay?" she yawned. "Sirius has a key, they should be back soon…"

"I don't plan on leaving this chair for anything," Remus said, hooking his ankle around the footstool and pulling it closer to him. He put his feet up and grabbed one of the mugs off the table. He said something else, but his hoarse voice was already fading into the distance. Tonks relaxed into him and let sleep overtake her.

A loud crash jerked her awake and Tonks leapt to her feet, wand out before she could even see through her bleary eyes.

"Stay away from him!" she cried, brandishing her wand at the intruders.

"Dora, it's okay!"

Remus's voice called out from behind her and she could feel a hand on her waist, then his chest at her back.

"It's okay," he murmured in her ear, "it's Sirius and the others, they got back a while ago."

Finally blinking the last of the sleep out of her eyes, Tonks focused on her cousin, standing dumbstruck in the middle of the kitchen with a beer in his hand.

"Hey, cuz," he said uncertainly, eyeing the tip of her wand with wary grey eyes. She lowered it immediately.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "Bit jumpy."

"I can see that," he remarked. "Glad you're alright, you gave us quite the start when you didn't show up in Russell Square."

"Yeah, I saw someone moving in the park. Stayed behind to check it out."

"I can see that, too," Sirius said, gesturing to the tied-up men in his kitchen. "This your handiwork?"

"Mmhmm," she moaned, yawning. "How long was I asleep?"

"About an hour," Remus informed her. "Must confess, I fell asleep too. Only woke up when blondie over there started moaning."

Tonks glanced at the young man. He was now most certainly unconscious. She turned suspicious eyes on Remus, and he laughed.

"Hey, don't look at me. Moody has a brutal stunner, I speak from first-hand experience."

"I only stunned you _once_ , boy," Mad Eye grunted from the kitchen table, "and I was going easy on you."

"Certainly didn't feel like it," Remus countered, smirking at the older man.

"Sirius, you really need to get rid of that troll leg," Kingsley said, dusting his robes off as he walked back into the room. "The damned thing trips me up every time I walk by it."

He glanced over at Tonks and grimaced.

"Sorry mate, I didn't mean to wake you."

"'s okay," she replied, rubbing her eyes. "I hate that troll leg too, Sirius has a weird attachment to it."

"I do not," her cousin said primly. "I simply enjoy the drama it inevitably creates."

"Can we return to the question at hand?" Moody asked testily. "These two are probably supposed to check in at regular intervals. When they don't, Crowther will descend on this house with a warrant and a dozen armed men at his back."

Tonks was suddenly very much awake. Her boss had an excellent point.

"What do you suggest then, Alastor?" Sirius asked, taking a swig of his beer. "He can't go to Hogwarts, he can't go to Tonks's place, he can't go to yours. Every person who's ever been friendly to Remus probably has officers posted outside their door. The Potters are out, so's Kingsley."

"My parents?" Tonks suggested. Sirius laughed.

"Tonks, you know how your mother feels about Death Eaters!"

"I'm not a Death Eater," Remus snapped angrily.

"Whatever," Sirius snarled. "I doubt she differentiates. She spent far too long being chased all over Europe by her crazed sister to have much sympathy for anyone who used to follow the Dark Lord."

"But she hasn't met him yet, she doesn't know – "

"Tonks," Sirius said, cutting her off, "I don't know what's… going on here," he gestured between her and Remus, "but rest assured that he is _not_ going to be welcomed into the Tonks family with open arms. If you show up there and – and _hold his hand_ or something, your mother might very well kill him herself!"

Tonks opened her mouth to unleash a furious retort, but Remus's hand on her arm held her back.

"It's okay, Dora," he said calmly. "Look, I can just… go to Scotland or something, lay low in the mountains for a while. They won't find me up there."

"You planning on living there for the rest of your life?" Moody snapped. "It might come to that if you don't make a stand."

"A _stand_?" the werewolf snarled. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means, lad," Moody replied. "You didn't tell the truth at your trial, and look where it's got you."

There was a brief silence. Then Remus drew in a sharp breath.

"I didn't tell a single lie at my trial," he hissed. "Not one."

"No, but you omitted every decent thing you ever did!" the old man countered. "You made yourself out to be a monster, and you've been cultivating that image ever since. Now everyone assumes you're guilty, and you have nobody to blame but yourself!"

"What would you have had me do?" Remus demanded, taking a threatening step towards the old man. "Tell the Wizengamot that I'm a – a _good person_ and then watch them laugh in my face? They wouldn't have believed me, even if I believed it myself!"

"Alright, calm down you two," Sirius said, holding out his hands. "Alastor, I know what you're trying to say, but clearing Lupin's name is not the priority right now. Right now, we need to find him a place to stay where he'll be safe, then we can figure out what to do next."

Remus opened his mouth, but Sirius cut him off with a glare.

"You're not running off to Scotland," he said firmly. "I'm sure Crowther already has people setting traps in those mountains. We can't do much to help you up there, and besides, running away only makes you look more guilty."

"I've already run away," Remus snapped. "What's another few hundred miles?"

"Is there anyone who _doesn't_ like him who we can trust for a few days?" Kingsley asked, ignoring the werewolf's protests. "The Mackinnons, maybe?"

Remus let out a bark of mirthless laughter.

"Oh, that will go over well," he snarled sarcastically. "' _Hello Marlene, I know I tortured you and gave you a permanent limp, but I promise it was all for a good cause. Can I sleep on your sofa?_ '"

He rolled his eyes and collapsed back into the armchair he'd so recently vacated.

"At that point I might as well go to the _Weasleys_ ," he muttered. "At least I haven't actively hurt any of them."

There was a pregnant pause. Remus looked up at them, then opened his mouth incredulously.

"No," he snapped. " _Hell_ no. That was a bloody joke, people."

"But it's the perfect place!" Tonks insisted. "Everyone knows they hate you, Crowther will never look for you at the Burrow."

"Maybe not," Remus admitted, "but I guarantee that if you stick me in that shack with those ginger brats, I'll be begging Crowther to come put me out of my misery by this time tomorrow."

"You're being melodramatic," she chided. "You'll survive for a few days while we sort this mess out."

"And how exactly are we going to sort it out?"

"Again, that's a question for later," Sirius said brusquely. "Right, the Burrow it is. Come on Lupin, on your feet."

Remus groaned loudly and threw his head back in childish protest.

"… that woman despises me with every ounce of her being," he moaned. "Do us both a favour and just Apparate me to Inverness!"

"So you can go freeze to death in the snow?" Moody grunted. "In case you've forgotten, you can't do magic right now. That means no warming charms, no smokeless fires, no protective wards – "

"I could go with him," Tonks suggested.

"Fuck no," Remus snapped. "I'm not bringing anyone else down with me, least of all you."

"So it's settled then," Sirius said, a note of impatience in his voice. "Lupin, grow a pair and get over to the Burrow."

"Can't you just wipe their memories and stick them back outside?" Remus demanded, gesturing to the two unconscious men.

"The goal is to have you in a house that _isn't_ being guarded by Crowther's henchmen," Sirius replied sarcastically. "Who knows when the bastard will just start getting warrants."

Remus furrowed his brow.

"I thought this place was supposed to be Unplottable."

Sirius grimaced.

"Yeah, well, I got tired of my mail going undelivered, so I registered the general location with the Ministry. Didn't know I was going to be harboring a wanted fugitive."

Moody rose and stumped over to the recalcitrant werewolf.

"Come on, lad," he growled, nudging Lupin's knee. "Quit stalling. It won't be that bad."

"Easy for you to say," Remus muttered as he reluctantly got to his feet. "My ears still haven't recovered from my last run-in with Molly Weasley."

"When was that?" Tonks asked as she tied up her combat boots.

"About four years ago," he replied, shaking his head. "Bloody woman came into my office and accused me of trying to sabotage Percy's career by giving him a D on his Defense NEWT. Absolutely refused to believe that her precious boy was rubbish at something."

Tonks snorted.

"Oh, Percy," she said, shaking her head. "He has other talents."

"Does he?" Remus asked, raising an eyebrow. She smirked at him.

"I'll go first," Moody grunted, stepping up to the fire and grabbing a handful of Floo powder from the bowl on the mantel. "We should probably warn them before you land in their living room. Give me a few minutes, will you?"

"I'll give you a few years, if you want," Remus offered. The old man shot him an unamused glare, and the werewolf shrugged.

"Was worth a try," he mumbled to himself. Then Moody was gone in a roar of flame. Tonks glanced over at Sirius, who was brandishing his wand at the two WCU officers on the floor, brow furrowed as he focused on his task.

" _Obliviate!_ "

"You're putting them back outside, right?"

"Yep," her cousin replied. "With any luck, no one will be the wiser."

"I'm heading back to the Ministry," Kingsley said, grabbing his robe from off the back of a chair. "See if I can help at all in the Atrium."

"Hold on mate, I'll come with you," Sirius said, the two officers now hovering in the air in front of him. Tonks glanced up at Remus, conflicted. He drew in a breath, hesitated, then spoke.

"Stay with me?" he asked quietly. "Please?"

She searched his amber eyes for a moment, then nodded. He let out a sigh of relief and she smiled.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you from the big bad Mama Weasley," she teased. He rolled his eyes and let out a huff of laughter.

"I'm not scared of her, I just…" he trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

"You'd rather avoid the interaction altogether," she finished for him. He grimaced and nodded.

"See you at the Burrow," Sirius said, nodding to them as he and Kingsley left the kitchen.

"Be careful, you two," she called out. When the front door closed behind them, she turned back to Remus.

"You know, you could tell them about Bellatrix."

"What? Why?"

"Don't you think they should know?" she demanded. "You saved their lives! Charlie would never have been such a prick to you if he knew the truth."

"I don't want Charlie to forgive me for one crime because I committed another," Remus said firmly. "You can't trade lives like chocolate frog cards, Dora."

"Maybe not," she countered, "but what you did has to count for something. You risked your life to protect them."

"They would have been fine," he said wearily, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Molly and Arthur are brilliant fighters, I don't think Bella knew what she was getting herself into. 'Course I didn't know either, at the time."

"Arthur wasn't there, Remus," Tonks said quietly, and he glanced up at her in surprise. "He was on a mission."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Charlie told me about it once. His mum was pregnant with Ginny at the time, apparently the shock of finding Bella's body so close to the house sent her into premature labour."

Remus blinked at her and she crossed her arms.

"You saved their lives," she repeated. "And if Molly starts in on you when we get to the Burrow, I can't promise that I won't tell her exactly that."

"Please don't," he asked, reaching forward and pulling one of her hands into his.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to make a scene!"

She glared up at him.

"No, you just want everyone to keep hating you as much as you hate yourself."

The words hit him hard, and she immediately regretted her confrontational tone. He turned his eyes to the floor and took a step back, dropping her hand.

"… yeah, maybe," he muttered, shrugging. There was a long, painful silence. Then he drew in a sharp breath.

"Anyway, we should get going."

She reached out to him but he stepped away, heading to the fireplace.

"Remus – "

"Dora," he said, turning around with a grim expression on his face, "at this point you know me better than any other living person. If that's what you think, then it's probably true."

"It _is_ true," she said quietly. "But that doesn't mean it has to stay that way. Mad Eye's right, you cultivate this image of a – a creepy, unpleasant man who doesn't give a shit about anyone. But that's not _you_. I don't think it ever _has_ been you."

Remus shifted uncomfortably on his feet and stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking extremely self-conscious.

"I don't give a shit about anyone other than you," he snapped.

"You're a bad liar," she retorted. His throat bobbed, and after a moment he dropped his eyes to the floor again. She sighed and stepped forward, reaching up to play with the ties on the front of his jumper.

"Just… think about it, will you?" she asked. "Use the Weasleys as an experiment. Tell them about Bella and… see what happens."

"I know exactly what will happen," he griped. "They won't believe me. Then they'll get angry and think I'm trying to manipulate them."

"Maybe," Tonks admitted, "but I doubt it. It makes too much sense, who else could have done it?"

"Regulus," he said simply. "It's exactly the sort of foolhardy, stupid thing that prat would do."

"Was Regulus still alive at that point?"

"He died a week later."

"Oh," Tonks said solemnly. "You had a rough week, there."

He chuckled mirthlessly and ran a hand down his face.

"They were all rough," he muttered. Then he reached up and wrapped both his hands around hers.

"I'm not going to tell the Weasleys about Bella," he said firmly, "but I _will_ refrain from antagonizing them and acting like an arsehole. Sound like a compromise?"

She hesitated for a moment, then her lips quirked up in a small smile.

"Alright."

He smiled back. His eyes darted down to her mouth and up again. She cocked her head cheekily and he took the invitation to lean down and kiss her. Blond stubble rasped against her skin and his soft lips caressed hers tenderly. When they finally parted, she needed a moment to catch her breath.

"… you're getting really good at that."

"Practice makes perfect," he said, grinning. "That reminds me – an addendum to our Weasley Compromise – if Charlie has a problem with me kissing you, I reserve the right to break his nose."

"I think that's fair," she said, grinning back.

"Are you two coming?" a voice called from the fire. They jumped and glanced down to see Moody's head sticking out of the flames. He looked annoyed.

"Or are you going to stay here and make babies?" he demanded. "I do hope you're being safe, I don't think the world is ready for your progeny."

Tonks exploded into helpless laughter, whilst Remus went beet red and glared daggers at the disembodied man. Moody cleared his throat loudly.

"Just get over here, will you?" he barked, then disappeared once more. Tonks was still hiccupping with laughter when Remus held the bowl of floo powder out to her.

"For the record," he said, cheeks still burning but his eyes alight with wicked humor, "I would very much like to stay here and be safe with you."

Tonks blushed and she reached out to take a handful of the glittery powder.

"All in good time," she teased, stretching up and depositing a kiss on his cheek before brushing past him and heading for the fireplace. He stepped up beside her and replaced the bowl on the mantel, his fist clenched around his own floo powder.

"Do we have to?" he asked, sounding more a disgruntled child than a grown werewolf. She reached down and slipped her free hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"It won't be so bad," she said.

He grunted and gestured toward the fire.

"Ladies first."

"Only if you promise you'll actually come through after me."

He let out a long-suffering sigh.

"… I promise."

She shot him a rueful smile.

"See you on the other side, then."

She turned and threw her floo powder on the fire, bellowed _'THE BURROW'_ at the top of her lungs, and jumped into the flames. The familiar rush of wind and horrible whirling engulfed her, and it felt like ages before she finally tumbled onto the knitted blue rug in the Weasley's living room. A pair of large, calloused hands reached down and hauled her upright.

"Where's Lupin?" Moody demanded. Before she could answer, the fire roared again and Remus somersaulted out of the chimney, coming to an abrupt stop at his boss's feet. His face was covered in soot and his hair was standing on end.

"I hate floo travel," he muttered, shaking his head. Tonks snorted and held out her hand, helping him up.

"It doesn't seem to like you much, either," she remarked, eyeing the black smudges all over his jumper and trousers. "You look like a chimney sweep."

"I feel like one too," he griped, trying to wipe himself off as he glanced around the room. "Where is everyone?"

Tonks followed his gaze. The living room was adorned with festive decorations – glistening tinsel and sprigs of holly hung from the large timber beams in the ceiling, and a gigantic Christmas tree filled one of the corners, covered in twinkling lights and enchanted snowflakes. It would have been a very welcoming scene, were it not for the complete absence of red-haired occupants.

"Molly and Arthur went to the hospital with Harry and Hermione," Moody explained. "The others were here, but they seem to have run off."

"Works for me," Remus said, collapsing onto one of the many lumpy sofas.

"Oy!" Tonks protested, gesturing him back up again. "You're getting soot all over their furniture!"

He gave her a withering look.

"What d'you want me to do, strip?"

She brandished her wand at him and he dodged out of the way, looking alarmed.

"Dora, I love you," he said quickly, "but you are complete rubbish at cleaning charms. I'm rather attached to my hair and eyebrows, thank you very much."

"I only set fire to _one_ cushion!" she protested.

"Which set the couch on fire, then the rug, then Dawlish's desk," he retorted, gently pushing her wand arm down. "You did manage to get rid of the coffee stain, I'll give you that."

She glared at him, and he smiled sheepishly back.

"I'm getting better," she grumbled petulantly. "I've been practicing at home."

"Ah, that explains the scorch marks on your kitchen table."

"Oy!"

Someone cleared their throat deliberately, interrupting their squabbling. They turned to find Bill Weasley eyeing them from the doorway, his lips pulled into a tight smile.

"Wotcher, Tonks," he said softly, nodding to her. "It's been a while."

"Bill!" she cried, launching herself into his arms. His grim expression faltered and he laughed, returning her hug enthusiastically.

"I thought you were in Egypt!" she said, stepping back and looking him over from head to toe. "You do look very tan."

He snorted.

"And by tan you mean sunburned," he remarked drily. "I'm back for good, I start a new job at Gringotts in January."

"That's brilliant!" she exclaimed. "I bet Fleur is chuffed."

"She is," he said, a hint of a sappy smile playing at his mouth. It faded, though, when he glanced over her shoulder at the werewolf in his living room.

"Hey," Tonks said, fidgeting awkwardly, "thanks for letting Remus come here. He just needs a place to lie low for a while."

Bill brushed by her and came to a stop in front of the werewolf.

"So you're Lupin," he said, examining the smaller man carefully. "Bit scrawnier than I expected."

Remus raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry to disappoint."

"The Ministry thinks you brought the Atrium ceiling down," Bill continued, crossing his arms over his chest. The werewolf just shrugged in response. Bill narrowed his eyes.

"Did you do it?"

"No."

"Bet he did," a deeper, nastier voice chimed in. Charlie had joined them. He was leaning against the doorframe with his muscular arms crossed over his chest, his blue eyes fixed malevolently on Remus.

"He didn't do it, Charlie," Tonks repeated firmly, glaring daggers at her friend. The young man turned to her and furrowed his brow.

"What are you still doing with this creep, anyway?" he demanded, jerking his head at Remus.

"He's not a creep," she snapped. Charlie raised his eyebrows.

"You saying that doesn't make it true," he remarked. "I think you're a bad judge of character."

"Maybe I am," she said briskly. "Why else would I have spent my entire life thinking you were a decent bloke?"

"Alright, knock it off you two," Bill said over his shoulder, his eyes still fixed on Remus. "Charlie, make yourself useful and put the kettle on."

The young dragon handler shot an annoyed glare at his brother's back. Then he turned and stomped down the hallway, muttering obscenities under his breath.

"I must say, you're not at all what I expected," Bill said, finally turning away from Remus. "From the way the others talk, I thought you'd be… I dunno, a bit scarier."

"I have my scary moments," the werewolf quipped, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I didn't realize there were even more Weasley children. How many did your mother pop out, anyway?"

Bill's lip quirked at the irreverent question, and he leaned back against a windowsill.

"I'm the only one you haven't met," he said. "I'm four years older than Charlie and Tonks, so I was long gone by the time you got to Hogwarts."

"Ah," Remus replied simply. He turned his gaze up to the ceiling. It looked like he was trying to figure something out.

"I was six when Fay and Gideon died," Bill said quietly. Remus looked back at the younger man, startled.

"Erm… right."

For a long moment, Bill simply stared at the werewolf. Remus looked uncharacteristically self-conscious under his gaze, fidgeting awkwardly and casting his eyes about the room. He finally latched onto Tonks, shooting her a pleading glance.

"So, Bill," she burst out suddenly, then scrambled around for something to say, "erm… are you and Fleur moving in together?"

The man shot her a rueful look and played along with her efforts to change the subject.

"Yes, we are," he said, smiling. "We just signed for a flat in Covent Garden."

"Aw, brill!" she replied. "We'll have to get dinner sometime."

"I'd like that," Bill said genuinely. "Fleur loves you, she said that night out in Brixton was the most fun she's had in ages."

Tonks grinned.

"It's bound to be a good time when you take a veela to a gay bar on drag night."

Bill laughed, and Remus and Moody snorted.

"She'll be here tomorrow actually," Bill said happily. "Her first Christmas with the family."

"Oh," Tonks said, her smile faltering. She shot a worried glance at Remus, but Bill shook his head.

"Don't worry, she doesn't mind werewolves," he said, then shot them a rueful grin. "Rather the opposite, in fact. She dated two of them before meeting me."

Remus let out a bark of laughter.

"Girl clearly has good taste," he said, winking at Tonks. She rolled her eyes, suppressing a grin.

"A veela who likes werewolves?" Moody asked, sounding suspicious. "That's a bit unlikely, isn't it?"

Bill just shrugged.

"I guess so. Can't say we've ever really discussed it."

The sound of footsteps in the hallway announced the arrival of Charlie once again. He stuck his head into the room and glowered at them all.

"Tea's ready," he grunted before stomping away. Tonks couldn't help but smirk at his grumpy behavior. But before they could follow him, Bill took a step forward and placed himself in Remus's path.

"Hey, look," he said quietly, holding out a hand. "I don't have a problem with you. Really, I don't," he insisted as the werewolf gave him an incredulous look, "you were just a kid when you..."

He trailed off, grimacing. Then he took a deep breath and continued.

"Anyway, I'm old enough to know just how fucked up it is that you were in that situation at all. I know there's a lot more to your story than what's in the Ministry files. I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I'll warn you – "

He took another slow step forward, and suddenly he loomed over Remus, his blue eyes cold and his fists clenched.

" – if you put any member of my family in harm's way, I will kill you myself."

For a long, tense moment, the two men stared at each other, icy blue and amber eyes locked in a silent competition. Then, inexplicably, Remus's face split into a wide grin.

"I like you," he said, chuckling. "You're by far my favorite Weasley."

Bill blinked, clearly taken aback by this response. He shifted on his feet and glanced over at Tonks.

"That goes for her, too," he snapped, pointing at her. "And Fleur. And – and – "

"Bill," the werewolf said calmly, cutting off what could have turned into quite a long list, "I think you've made your point."

The younger man's throat bobbed and he nodded curtly.

"Just so we're clear."

"We're clear. I'll try to reign in my homicidal tendencies for the next few days."

Bill furrowed his brow and Tonks let out an exasperated sigh.

"Remus, could you _please_ stop shooting yourself in the foot?" she demanded. "Most people don't understand when you're being sarcastic."

"He understood!" the werewolf protested, then turned curious eyes to Bill. "Didn't you?"

Moody let out a snort of laughter.

"It's hopeless, lass," he said, slapping a hand on Lupin's shoulder as he stumped towards the door. "He has a warped sense of humour, always has done."

" _You're_ one to talk," Remus muttered as the old man left the room. Bill snorted, shooting the werewolf an unreadable glance.

"Right, well…" the red-haired man said, gesturing them awkwardly out of the living room, "shall we?"

As they traipsed down the hallway towards the kitchen, Tonks slipped her hand into Remus's and gave it a squeeze. He squeezed back, and she glanced up to find him smiling at her.

"I'm glad _you_ understand my humour, at least," he murmured. She smirked.

"Yes, well, it took some getting used to. I'll never forget the time I asked what you did over the weekend, and you said you'd killed a prostitute and done lines of cocaine off a toilet in the third-floor lavatory."

"Ah, yes," he reminisced, grinning. "Only one of those things was true."

She shook her head at him.

"You're absurd."

The hallway opened up into a bright, warm kitchen. Charlie was slumped at one end of the long wooden table, head bent over the Daily Prophet crossword. A large red teapot and a few chipped mugs sat beside him, and Bill set about pouring tea for everyone. At the other end of the table, Fred and George were prodding a disheveled niffler with their wands. The two boys glanced up as the visitors arrived.

"Wotcher, Tonks!"

"Hey Mad Eye!"

Their smiles faded abruptly as their eyes fell on Remus.

"'Lo Professor," they grunted in unison, turning back to their task. Remus snorted, his

lips twitching.

"What on earth are you doing to that niffler?" Tonks demanded as they began to prod it again.

"Cute little bugger has one of our prototypes in his pouch," Fred explained, eyes fixed intently on their prisoner. "He won't give it back."

"Of course he won't," Remus said drily, throwing a leg over the long wooden bench and taking a seat. "You need to trade him for it."

"Trade him for it?" George repeated incredulously. "Who knows how much shite he has in there, how are we supposed to tell him what we want?"

The werewolf shrugged.

"You just have to keep trying until he gives it to you."

George let out an exasperated sigh and lowered his forehead onto the table.

"It's useless, Fred me old boy…" he groaned. "He probably has a metric ton of tinsel in that pouch, we'll never get it back."

The niffler – sensing a lapse in his captors' concentration – skittered down the table, making a beeline for a few Knuts sitting near the teapot. He was thwarted by Remus's hand, which darted out and grabbed him around the middle. The werewolf raised the small creature to eye level, staring him down.

"What're you looking for?" he asked the twins, not taking his eyes off the niffler. The boys glanced at each other, then Fred opened his mouth.

"A necklace."

"How much would you say it's worth?"

"Are you including labor hours in this estimate?"

Remus gave the boys an unamused glare, and George rolled his eyes.

"A galleon, maybe?"

The werewolf dug in his pocket and pulled out a single gold galleon. He held it up to the small creature and silently raised his eyebrows. The niffler's small brown eyes widened, and it waggled its tiny arms at the shiny coin. Remus held it just out of reach, his eyebrows still raised expectantly.

"Well?"

The niffler let out what could only be described as a disgruntled huff. Then it plunged one arm into its pouch and dug around for a while, finally pulling out a large silver hairpin.

"That's Ginny's!" Fred exclaimed.

"Don't worry," Remus said, shaking his head at the niffler, "she'll get it back. Nifflers purge every few weeks."

The creature pulled out a shiny blue cigarette lighter. Again, Remus shook his head.

"But he could be gone in a few weeks!" Fred protested.

"Where's he gonna go?" the werewolf asked, laughing. "Nifflers don't like swamps. Just make sure he doesn't hitch a ride out of here in a pocket or something."

Bill placed mugs of tea in front of Remus and Tonks, shooting the werewolf an odd glance as he did so. Tonks furrowed her brow questioningly at the man but he said nothing, retreating to the other side of the table with his own tea.

The niffler offered a bent tiara adorned with plastic diamonds, then a small bottle of perfume, then a handful of tinsel. At each shake of Remus's head, the poor creature became more and more frustrated, making tiny snuffling noises that Tonks couldn't help but find adorable.

"What's so special about this necklace anyway?" Remus asked, rejecting a large steel screwdriver.

"It's really just an accessory to complement our other products," George said, a note of pride in his voice. "It has a locket with a simultaneous Shrinking and Expanding Charm. If we ever get it to work, it should fit at least ten Dungbombs inside."

Fred winked roguishly at Tonks.

"Made specially for lady pranksters," he said, grinning.

By this point, the niffler was becoming positively frantic. It began pulling items out at random, stuffing them back into its pouch so quickly that Remus barely had time to decline. Finally, after nearly five minutes of this show-and-tell, the twins let out a shout of triumph.

"That's it!" Fred cried, pointing at the locket and chain dangling from the small creature's paw. Remus nodded and the niffler deflated with relief. Grinning, the werewolf placed the galleon in the niffler's outstretched paw and reached for the locket. His hand had barely closed around it when he let out a startled yell, dropping both the necklace and the niffler. George lunged forward and grabbed the locket before the small creature could snatch it back up again.

" _Shit_ ," the boy hissed, wide eyes fixed on his former professor's hand. Tonks already had her wand out.

"Are you okay?" she asked, trying to pry open the werewolf's fist.

"I'm fine," he snapped, clenching his fingers together. "That was stupid of me."

"Why didn't you warn him?" Tonks demanded, turning angry eyes on the twins.

"I forgot!" George replied defensively.

"'s alright Dora," Remus muttered. "It's not a big deal. I should have been paying more attention."

"Would you let me look at it, please?"

He shot her an exasperated glance. Seeing the determination in her eyes, he sighed deeply and opened his hand. Tonks hissed in sympathy. The center of his palm was bright red and blistering. She ran her wand over it, but nothing happened.

"Silver burns don't heal normally," he informed her. "It'll be fine in a few days."

"Lass," Moody grunted. She looked up to find him holding a small bottle out to her from across the table.

"Dittany," he said. "Should help a bit."

"Would you two stop fussing?" Remus snapped. "It's not like I swallowed the damn thing!"

"Thanks, Mad Eye," Tonks said, grabbing the bottle. Taking the stopper out, she tipped several drops onto the grumpy werewolf's palm. His skin sizzled and smoked, and he sucked air in through his clenched teeth.

"Sorry," she murmured, shooting him a sympathetic glance. "It'll be better in a second."

His palm was already starting to heal. The blisters scabbed over, then smoothed into a shiny patch of reddish skin. He stretched his fingers.

"Thank you," he said quietly, quirking his lips at her in the barest hint of a smile. She squeezed his forearm, then handed the dittany back to Mad Eye with a grateful nod.

An awkward silence descended upon the table. Tonks was struggling to suppress her anger with the twins, well aware that Remus didn't want to make a scene. But even Bill was glaring daggers down the table at his brothers. Charlie looked completely unconcerned, still working on the crossword, whilst Moody just sipped his tea and glanced casually about the room. Remus shifted uncomfortably on the bench, took a hurried gulp of tea, then stood up.

"Bill, erm… where's the toilet?"

"Down the hall, three doors on the left."

The werewolf nodded, then disappeared. As his footsteps faded away, the eldest Weasley turned burning eyes on his siblings.

"That was a _rotten_ thing to do," he hissed. "You didn't forget, you just chose not to tell him."

To the twins' credit, they both seemed ashamed of themselves. George was hunched over the locket, poking it half-heartedly with his wand. Fred was twisting his hands together in his lap.

"I didn't actually think he'd find it," the latter admitted quietly, shrugging and avoiding everyone's eyes. George said nothing, and Bill's lips tightened.

"Anything to say for yourself, George?"

"Since when did you become substitute mum?" the younger boy snarled, turning angry eyes on Bill. "I don't have to justify myself to you. Bastard deserves worse than that, if you ask me."

"Well, nobody did ask you!" Bill snapped. "Merlin's beard, grow _up_. He was helping you!"

"He was just trying to get on our good side," George retorted, "now that we have power over him."

" _Power_ over him?!" Tonks cried, rising slowly to her feet. "You even _think_ about ratting him out to the Ministry and I'll – I'll…"

She trailed off, struggling to think of something nasty she was actually willing to do to the boys. Behind her, a throat cleared loudly.

"Dora, threatening people is not your strong suit."

She turned and glared at Remus, who was leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe.

"Care to offer any suggestions, then?"

He shrugged.

"If they want to tell Crowther I'm here, that's their prerogative," he said simply. "I wanted to go to Scotland anyway."

"Nobody's telling Crowther anything," Bill growled.

"What about Fudge?" Charlie suggested. "Can we tell him?"

"Have you forgotten what Hermione said?!" Bill shouted, glaring at his brother. "Ron would be a human pancake right now if it weren't for this man! Now he's being framed for a crime he didn't commit, the least we can do is give him a safe place to stay!"

"Speaking of Ron," Moody said calmly, "shouldn't they be back by now? How long does it really take to heal an ankle?"

"I think it was more than his ankle," Tonks muttered, sitting back down and gripping her mug of tea tightly. "He was looking feverish by the time we left, he might already have an infection."

"What?" Remus snapped.

"He can't already have an infection," Moody said, his brow furrowed. "Maybe he was just in shock."

"Maybe," Tonks said, shrugging. "Didn't look like it, though. He was flushed and really sweaty. Started shivering right before Damian Apparated."

Moody shot a dark look over her shoulder, and Tonks turned to find Remus staring at her with wide, horrified eyes.

"What?"

He didn't answer. He just turned his gaze to Moody, his mouth moving noiselessly.

"… I – I didn't…" he finally stammered, pushing himself upright and running both hands through his messy hair. He suddenly looked terrified, his chest heaving in rapid breaths.

"Hey, hey, calm down," Moody said firmly, putting his hands up. "It could be nothing."

"I barely touched him!" the werewolf cried, turning away from them. "I just… I pushed him out of the way, and – "

"Remus!" Moody barked, rising to his feet and walking around the end of the table. "We don't know anything yet, don't jump to any conclusions."

"I can't do this again, I _won't_ – "

"Listen to me, lad!" the old man shouted, grabbing Lupin's shoulder and twisting him around. "It could just be a simple infection. Even if it isn't, being a werewolf is better than being dead!"

There was a stunned silence. Tonks felt her lungs seize up as the pieces fell into place. Remus was shaking his head at the old man, his eyes wide and his face twisted with fear.

"No it isn't."

Nobody knew what to say. The four Weasley boys were staring at the werewolf, their expressions ranging from disgusted to enraged. Finally, Tonks drew in a tentative breath.

"I think you only touched him the one time," she said, thinking back on those horrifying moments in the Atrium, "when the first bit of ceiling fell. You weren't even bleeding then, how – "

"I don't _know_ ," Remus interrupted, running his hands through his hair again. "It was all a fucking mess, I don't know when I started bleeding. The second bit of ceiling knocked me over, it could have been then…"

He trailed off, shaking his head hopelessly and turning to look out the window. He braced his hands against the kitchen counter and glared angrily at the snow-covered swamp. A tense silence descended, finally broken by the sound of the floo down the hallway.

Nobody breathed. Flames roared two more times, and still no voices could be heard. Finally, Charlie cursed and leapt to his feet, hurrying down the hallway. A few muffled words were exchanged, and suddenly Molly Weasley's strident voice rang through the house.

"HE'S _HERE?!_ "

Loud footsteps pounded down the hall and Tonks held her breath as Molly stormed into the room. One glance at her tear-stained, enraged face told them everything they needed to know. Tonks suddenly felt sick.

" _You!_ " the red-haired woman hissed, fixing bloodshot eyes on the werewolf next to the sink. "It wasn't enough, was it, taking my brothers? Now you've gone and taken my _son!_ "

She started forward, wand outstretched. But Moody intercepted her bravely.

"Molly," he said, holding his hands out in a pleading gesture, "I know you're upset, but it's not his fault – "

"Not his _fault?!_ " the grief-stricken woman shrieked. "It was his blood, his _filthy_ blood that infected my boy!"

"He saved Ron's life!"

"He _ruined_ Ron's life!"

Molly shoved her way past Moody, but the old man luckily managed to yank her wand away as she passed. She barely seemed to notice, her eyes fixed on the man who'd taken so much from her.

The slap was far from unexpected, but Tonks still flinched as the sound of it echoed through the kitchen like a gunshot. Remus turned his face back to Molly, his eyes strangely blank and his cheek red where her hand had made contact. The small woman glared up at him, her shoulders heaving with emotion. Then she raised her hand again, and another slap reverberated around the room. Then another, and another. Tonks let out a choked cry.

"Stop it!"

"Mum, _stop –_ "

But Molly had clearly been holding this in for far too long. Remus's cheek was suffering the full force of her pent-up rage and he was letting it happen, his eyes still blank as she raised her left hand to deliver the same treatment to his other cheek. This time, however, her hand left a long, bloody line on the werewolf's face – a memento from the small diamond on her engagement ring. She wound up to hit him again, but his hand around her wrist stopped her short.

For a long moment, Molly Weasley and the werewolf just stared at each other, both of their chests heaving in shallow, shaking breaths. Blood welled up from the jagged cut on Remus's face, then dripped lazily down his jaw. Finally he released her, and she stumbled backwards into Arthur's arms. Her husband had entered the room after her, looking pale and care-worn. Charlie stood behind him, fists clenched and eyes burning with righteous anger.

"Get out of here, you bastard," he hissed, stepping forward so he stood between the werewolf and his parents. "Stay any longer and you'll be eating silver out of one of Crowther's guns."

"Charlie, he didn't – "

"I don't want to hear it, Tonks!" the young man snarled, turning on her. "Far as I'm concerned, you're responsible for this too! If it weren't for you, Ron wouldn't have been anywhere _near_ this slimeball!"

"Shut up, Charlie."

The quiet admonishment came from the doorway. Everyone turned to find Ron standing there, his hands hanging loosely at his sides and his face ashen white. Tonks gasped. His blue eyes already had streaks of yellow running through them, stretching from the edge of his cornea towards his pupil. His nostrils were flared, and his lips were pulled into a grim line.

"It's not her fault," he said quietly. "It isn't anyone's fault."

Nobody knew how to respond to this. The silence stretched on until finally, Remus wiped his face on the sleeve of Kingsley's jumper and made for the door. As he brushed past Ron, the boy turned to him, his jaw clenched.

"Can't you even _look_ at me?"

The question stopped the werewolf in his tracks. He turned and slowly lifted his eyes from the floor, fixing them on Ron's face. His expression faltered under the force of the boy's yellowing gaze, and within seconds he had dropped his eyes again. Ron's throat bobbed.

"The nurses at St. Mungo's couldn't look at me either," he choked. "They put me in a different ward, and someone from Beast Division came and put a number on my arm."

Remus didn't respond, his gaze still fixed on the floor. Ron drew in a shaking breath.

"… I'm scared," he admitted bravely, his voice soft and small. "What's going to happen to me?"

Finally, Remus lifted his head. He managed to meet Ron's eyes for a moment before his gaze skittered off to the opposite corner of the room.

"A lot of very unpleasant things," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, Ron. I – I wish…"

He cut himself off, his face twisting. He turned abruptly and tried to leave, but Ron pulled him back by the arm.

"I'd be dead if it weren't for you," the boy hissed, ducking his head to try and get the older man to look him in the eye. "I don't blame you for this. But I need your _help_."

"You don't want my help," Remus snarled, shaking him off. "I don't help people, I just hurt them. If you're looking for some sort of – of _werewolf mentor_ , then you've got the wrong man."

"But I don't know anything about this!" Ron cried, looking like he was on the verge of hysterical tears. "I don't know what's happening to me! I can hear heartbeats, I can smell everyone's fear, I didn't even know fear _had_ a smell – "

Something seemed to break inside Remus Lupin. He lunged forward, grabbing the front of Ron's shirt in both hands and practically lifting the skinny boy off his feet. Charlie started forward, but Moody pointed his wand at him and shook his head. Remus's entire body was quivering, his amber eyes wild.

"I haven't turned anyone since I was twelve years old," he hissed in the red-haired boy's face. "I've chained myself to walls and built cages made of silver to keep from spreading my disease. I avoid touching people, I avoid making friends, I would actually _die_ before knowingly inflicting this curse on another person!"

He paused for breath, his chest heaving with emotion. Ron was staring grimly at him, his changing eyes full of a quiet understanding.

"This isn't your fault," he said, his voice strangely calm.

"How can you say that?!" Remus cried, his voice cracking. "You should _hate_ me!"

"I think you hate yourself enough for the both of us, mate," Ron said gently. For a long moment, the two werewolves stared at each other. Then with an inarticulate curse, Remus released the boy and took several steps back.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. He turned to Tonks, his eyes wide and helpless.

"I'm sorry."

Then he turned and strode out of the room. The front door opened and a gust of cold wind flew down the hallway, making them all shiver. The door slammed shut, and Ron turned confused eyes to Tonks.

"Where the hell is he going?"

She shook her head, already on her feet.

"Nowhere fast, that's for sure," she said, casting a warming charm on herself. "Idiot's going to freeze to death out there."

She marched down the hallway after the irrational werewolf. The sound of Moody's wooden leg thumped after her. Then another pair of feet hurried down the corridor.

"Ron, get back here!"

The boy ignored his mother's worried cry. He grabbed a tattered woolen coat off its hook on his way by, and Moody held the door for him. The unlikely trio stepped out into the frozen black night and turned up their collars.

" _Remus!_ " Tonks screamed uselessly into the howling wind. A quick _lumos maxima_ from all three of them flooded the garden with a bizarre, otherworldly light. A thick blanket of snow covered the frozen flowerbeds and disheveled greenhouse, and small white flakes whirled through the air, almost obscuring the footprints that led across the garden and into the swamp. Tonks plunged forward, using her wand to sweep the worst of the snow out of her path.

It didn't take long to find the runaway werewolf. Barely five minutes into their pursuit, they found him on his knees in the frozen mud, his entire body shaking. Tonks reached down to put a hand on his shoulder but he flinched, falling over in his haste to get away from her.

"Don't touch me!" he cried, crawling backwards through the reeds. Tonks gaped at him. She barely recognized the man she knew in the terrified figure before her. She watched helplessly as he curled in on himself, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He didn't seem to care that he was now sitting in ankle-deep, freezing muddy water. She turned bewildered eyes to Mad Eye, but his grim gaze was fixed on the distraught werewolf. He took several deliberate steps forward, conjured a chair directly in front of the huddled young man, and took a seat.

"Remus," he said firmly, his voice carrying the weight of authority, "look at me."

The man didn't respond. Moody sighed deeply and leaned forward.

"I know you're upset. But the boy doesn't blame you. Please come inside, I'm freezing my bollocks off out here."

Still no response. Tonks and Ron exchanged a concerned glance. Moody let out a huff of frustration and reached down –

"Don't _touch_ me!" the werewolf repeated, his voice cracking. The old man froze.

"I don't have any open cuts, lad," he said slowly. "You're not going to infect me."

"… I'd rather not take the risk," Remus replied, his voice muffled. "Can you just… go away?"

"No," Moody grunted. "I don't plan on losing my best Auror to hypothermia."

"Don't waste your breath on flattery," the werewolf snarled.

"I'm not," the old man snapped back testily. "Now will you stop feeling sorry for yourself and get your arse back inside? We have bigger problems right now than your self-destructive guilt complex."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Remus growled sarcastically, finally glaring up at Moody through bloodshot amber eyes, "is this inconvenient for you? Next time I have a mental breakdown, I'll be sure to consult your schedule first."

The two men glared at each other for a long, tense moment. The freezing wind howled around them, and Tonks shivered. Then slowly, incomprehensibly, both Moody and Remus started to chuckle.

"You're a prat," the old man said, shaking his head.

"… I know," the werewolf choked out. His smile faltered and his face twisted, and Moody was suddenly in the mire next to him, one arm wrapped around his thin frame. Remus buried his head in his arms, and for several minutes the wind carried his wracking sobs away across the dismal swamp.

Tonks sank to her knees in front of him. She didn't touch him, but she knew he could feel her presence. Mere seconds later, she could feel Ron crouching down beside her. Remus's sobs slowed, then stopped. After a moment, his shoulders rose and fell in a steadying breath and he raised his head.

"Sorry," he muttered, not looking at any of them. His throat bobbed, and he wiped his face on his sleeve. Then he shot Tonks a sheepish look.

"I'm always crying in front of you," he croaked, letting out a mirthless chuckle. "I think I've cried more in the last month than I did in the last fifteen years."

"Yes," Tonks replied ruefully, "I'm beginning to wonder whether you actually enjoy my presence at all."

He laughed, more genuinely this time. It was short-lived, however, and he soon sobered, examining his dismal surroundings with exhausted eyes.

"I hate this bloody swamp," he muttered to himself, then shivered. Moody, Ron and Tonks exchanged a dark glance.

"Come on," the red-haired boy said, putting his hand on his professor's elbow, "let's get you inside."

"I don't think your family wants anything to do with me," Remus said, shaking his head and refusing to move, "and I don't blame them."

Ron's lips tightened, and he glanced at Moody.

"Is there anywhere else he could go?"

The old man turned exasperated eyes on Tonks, and she quirked an eyebrow.

"Well, there's always Scotland."

"Scotland?" Ron repeated incredulously.

"I can take him up," Tonks offered. "Stay with him, make sure he doesn't – "

" _No_ ," Remus growled, shaking his head vehemently. "No, I'm not putting you at risk."

"I can take care of myself, Remus," she said testily.

"I'm aware of that," he retorted. "You're still not coming."

Tonks was just about to remind the insufferable man that he didn't have much choice in the matter when Moody interrupted her.

"Lass," he said sharply, beckoning her. He lurched to his feet, soaked robes dripping filthy water down his wooden leg. Tonks rose and joined him several metres away, brow furrowed in confusion.

"You need to take him back to Grimmauld Place," the old man hissed in her ear. "He won't last two minutes in Scotland, he's already half dead."

"Alright, Mad Eye," Tonks said, nodding, "but why the secrecy?"

The old man shot a surreptitious glance over his shoulder.

"I don't want to put Weasley in an awkward position," he growled softly. "If his family knows where Lupin is, they might very well turn him in."

"You know I can hear you, right?"

They turned to find Ron staring up at them from the ground, one eyebrow raised. Remus let out a bark of laughter, then turned amused eyes to his colleagues.

"If you want a private conversation, you're going to have to move a lot further away than that."

Moody grimaced, and Tonks smirked.

"Is Grimmauld Place safe for him?" Ron asked, jerking his head at the older werewolf.

"… relatively," Tonks admitted, shrugging. "It's being guarded by WCU officers, but they shouldn't be a problem unless Crowther gets a warrant."

The red-haired boy turned worried eyes on Remus. He looked torn. The older man's brow furrowed.

"What?"

Ron's lips tightened. He shot Tonks a strangely guilty glance. Her eyes widened and she lunged forward.

"Ron, _no!_ "

But it was too late. The boy was wrapping his hand around Remus's wrist. With a deafening _crack_ , they were both gone, leaving Moody and Tonks standing alone in the freezing mud.


	5. Chapter 5

"I must say, this is not how I envisioned spending Christmas Eve."

Tonks shot Kingsley a rueful glance.

"Really? I patrol Lunar District every year, it's a tradition. Really gets me in the holiday spirit."

She kicked an empty beer can down the winding street in front of them. It rattled across broken cobblestones and came to rest against a moldy concrete wall. The dying streetlamp above them cast just enough feeble yellow light to glint off the watchful eyes of the rats that skittered further into the shadows as the Aurors approached. Of all the shitholes Tonks had seen in her short career in law enforcement, this was perhaps the shittiest.

"Remind me why we're here again?" Kingsley asked mournfully.

"Because Fudge is a spineless prick and Crowther bullied him into handing over control of the Aurors," Tonks snarled.

"But why are we _here_?" her tall friend repeated, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his deep purple robes. "Crowther should know that this is the last place Lupin would hide. Most of these people want him dead."

"I dunno, mate. Maybe he knows something about Remus that we don't."

Kingsley snorted.

"Well, that wouldn't be hard. I've known the man for almost a decade and I don't even know where he's from."

"Yorkshire."

"… really?"

"Yes," Tonks replied, shining the lit end of her wand into an impossibly narrow alleyway and wrinkling her nose as the smell of rotting garbage and human excrement overwhelmed her. "He slips into the accent a bit when he's drunk."

"You've seen him drunk?"

Kingsley sounded incredulous. Tonks shot him an odd look.

"Why's that shocking?"

He shrugged, letting out a small chuckle.

"The only time I've seen him with a drink in his hand was at the Hog's Head a few years ago when Moody and I stopped off for a few after a mission. He had one pint with us and left."

Tonks contemplated this for a moment. A burst of laughter from an open window above reminded her that though an eight o'clock curfew kept the werewolf population off the streets, the Aurors were far from alone in this fetid slum.

"Well, he drinks around me," she finally said, then laughed. "Quite a lot, in fact."

"He must really trust you."

Tonks shot her friend a curious glance. He raised his eyebrows.

"To let his guard down like that. From what I can tell, he still lives like there's a war on. Back when he was spying, even a traitorous _thought_ could have gotten him killed. Snape gave a class on Occlumency when I was in the training program. He told us that Voldemort had a habit of using Legilimency on his servants at random, searching for traitors."

Tonks gaped up at the older Auror.

"You serious?"

"Yep," he said grimly, nodding. "With so much to hide, I can't imagine either one of our spies did much drinking back then."

"No…"

Tonks stared blankly at the filthy street in front of her. For the hundredth time, she mentally cursed Ronald Weasley. Two days had passed since the boy had kidnapped his werewolf professor, and there was still no sign of them. Patronuses had gone unanswered, letters undelivered. Molly was in a state, rushing about the country in a futile search for her runaway son. But there was no way to track the pair, and Remus was now considered a dangerous fugitive by both the wizarding and Muggle governments. Yesterday, Fudge had announced a large reward for anyone who brought the ex-Reaper in – dead or alive.

"You alright, Tonks?"

Kingsley's voice jerked her out of her reverie. Tonks glanced up and forced a smile.

"Yeah, 'm fine. Just thinking."

"Must be some deep thoughts. You've been standing in that puddle for nearly a minute."

Tonks glanced down and cursed. Putrid, freezing water had thoroughly soaked her trainers. She moved her toes and winced as her socks squished audibly.

"Come on," Kingsley said kindly, gesturing her out of the puddle. He waved his wand lazily at her shoes and they dried almost instantly. She shot him a sheepish glance.

"… thanks, Kings."

"Not at all. I'm sorry, I know you're worried about him. I should be trying to get your mind off him."

She grimaced.

"It's hard not to think about him when we're _here_ ," she griped, gesturing helplessly at their surroundings. "This place is a hell hole! How can we let people live like this?"

"We don't _let_ them, we _force_ them," her friend growled angrily, his brown eyes flashing. "Any adult werewolf who doesn't have a respectable employer to vouch for them has to live in here and eat out of the Ministry's hand. Barty Crouch came up with the idea in the seventies. He wanted to put a stranglehold on the packs and reduce the number of bites each month, but it really just made the werewolf population angrier and more desperate."

"That's why he's been trying to get that petition through…" Tonks mused to herself.

"Eh?"

She glanced up at Kingsley.

"Remus. He's been petitioning the Wizengamot for seven years now, trying to get werewolf children admitted to Hogwarts."

"Really?" he replied, raising his eyebrows. "Why didn't he ever tell us? I would sign that."

"It's never made it past the Wizengamot," Tonks said, grimacing. "They keep rejecting it."

"What? It's a _petition_ , he can get signatures without the Wizengamot's approval. Whether they pay attention to it or not is another issue."

Tonks shrugged.

"I dunno, you should talk to him. He seemed to think he needed their permission."

Kingsley was now deep in thought, brows furrowed. Then he cursed and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, right. It's illegal for werewolves to solicit in public, so he can't get any signatures on his own. He's been trying to put it up for a public vote."

The tall man shook his head.

"Idiot. He should have come to us, we could take the petition 'round for him."

"I think Dumbledore is on board," Tonks said, suddenly confused. "Why didn't he do it?"

"Because he can't be seen as a public supporter of it," Kingsley replied simply. "Given who's on the current Board of Governors, I wouldn't be surprised if they kicked him out of Hogwarts for a stunt like that. And without him as Headmaster, that petition doesn't stand a chance in hell."

Tonks made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat.

"My head hurts."

"Gotta love politics, eh?" Kingsley said, grinning. She shook her head at him, lips twitching.

"You seem to have a knack for it," she said, jerking her head at him before they turned and continued down the street. "Ever thought about running for Minister?"

He scoffed.

"You really think this country's going to elect a black Minister for Magic?"

"The Head Mugwump is black," Tonks pointed out.

"Yeah, and he's a fucking figure head," Kingsley snarled. "He's the only black person in the room, they put him there to tick the diversity box. He can't overrule majority votes. And there are, what, _three_ women in the Wizengamot? Out of fifty seats? The only people with any real power in our government are pure-blood old white men."

He aimed a vicious kick at an empty bottle of Firewhiskey, and it skittered away across the cobblestones before shattering against a wall. Tonks examined her friend silently for a moment.

"… I see I've touched a nerve."

He let out a huff of mirthless laughter, his gaze fixed on the ground as they continued their pointless patrol. He shook his head.

"Honestly, Tonks… sometimes I wonder whether we actually won that War."

She didn't know how to respond to this, so she said nothing. They walked on in morose silence for several minutes. As they came to a corner, Tonks held up the small compass that served as their navigation system. The silver arrow wavered for a second, then pointed left down yet another dingy alleyway. Kingsley started forward but Tonks paused, wincing.

"This bloody holster is driving me insane," she muttered angrily, dropping the compass into her pocket and readjusting the belt at her hips for the hundredth time. "The leather keeps biting into my skin."

"You know what would help with that?" Kingsley asked, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "Wearing a shirt that actually _fits_ you."

"Oy," she protested, fighting back a responding grin, "this shirt and I have been through some shit together. You don't throw away something you love just because it shrank in the wash."

"No," he conceded, "but you might want to think twice about wearing it around other men now that you're dating Lupin."

Tonks's hands slipped on the heavy leather holster as she tried to push it further back on her hip.

"Eh? What d'you mean?"

A snort of laughter brought her gaze back up to her tall friend. His brown eyes were dancing with mirth.

"You really haven't noticed?"

"Noticed _what?_ " she demanded, glaring at him.

"Tonks, if I had a sickle for every time I've seen him ogling you in that shirt, I'd be a very rich man."

Tonks gaped at him. He quirked an eyebrow.

"To be honest, the first time I saw him do it I was a little worried. You were still a cadet."

She cleared her throat, collecting her thoughts.

"… erm, he – I think he's liked me for a long time."

"No shit. Until I saw how he acted around you, I was convinced the man had some sort of debilitating brain injury that removed all his emotions."

Tonks couldn't help but chuckle at this.

"No, he definitely has emotions," she said, turning her attention back to the belt. "He just doesn't know what to do with them most of the time."

Kingsley snorted at this.

"Does anyone?"

The belt was still uncomfortable. Tonks let out a frustrated groan, pulling the holster up and letting it slap back against her thigh. The gun was heavy and awkward, its handle just a little too big for her hand.

"Do we _really_ have to carry these things? What can a gun do that a wand can't do better?"

"I don't think it's an either-or sort of thing," Kingsley replied, resting his hand on the butt of his own pistol. "They're just giving us another layer of protection."

Tonks snorted derisively.

"Protection, my arse. It's an intimidation tactic. These people don't even have _wands_ , and yet here we are, marching about with pockets full of silver bullets! No wonder the werewolves hate us."

"I think you're forgetting that a lot of these people don't _need_ wands."

Tonks begrudgingly conceded the point.

"… fine," she grumbled, giving up on the belt. "But I still think it's barbaric."

"I agree," he replied. "The fact that these guns are necessary at all is a sign that the system is broken. But let's focus on surviving the night first, alright? We can tackle the bigger issues tomorrow."

Tonks sighed deeply and started to walk.

"Can't you just morph your hips a bit narrower?" he asked, gesturing to the belt.

"I'm not going to change myself to accommodate this thing," she grunted. He had the good sense not to argue. They continued down the alley, wands held high to chase away the shadows.

"How's Maia?" Tonks asked after a few minutes of silence. "I haven't seen her since your birthday do."

She didn't need to look at her tall friend to know that his lips were curling into a soft smile.

"She's good. Working non-stop on another commission. I swear, that woman would go without sleep for a week if I let her."

"What's she painting this time?"

"Big landscape job. She's been Apparating out to Wales every day for it, won't let me see it 'til it's done."

"Is she having another exhibit soon?"

"Yeah, there's one in Shoreditch right after New Years. You should come, she'd love to see you."

Tonks grinned.

"Brilliant. Her last exhibit was amazing. I must have stared at that painting of the basilisk skeleton for nearly an hour."

"You _liked_ that one?" Kingsley repeated, laughing. "I always thought it was morbid."

"It was _fascinating_ ," Tonks insisted. "All those intricate little bones, and the big empty eye sockets… She must have really done her research to get the anatomy right."

"Yeah, I learned a bit too much about basilisks that month," he replied ruefully. "She kept dishing out lovely new facts about them over dinner. It's really hard to maintain your appetite when your wife is describing how basilisks digest their prey."

"Maybe she thought you needed to lose some weight," Tonks suggested innocently, "but didn't know how to tell you."

Even in the dim light, Kingsley's unamused glare was lethal. Tonks's lips spread into a wide grin.

"I mean, you _are_ going on forty. That's about when men start to go squidgy 'round the middle, innit?"

"I'll make you squidgy 'round the _head_ if you don't start showing some respect for your elders," he quipped, lips twitching with suppressed amusement. "And since when is thirty-four going on _forty_?"

"Just admit it, you're an old man."

"Well, squidgy or not, you clearly find us old men attractive. Lupin's what, thirty-seven, thirty-eight?"

Tonks smacked his shoulder, laughing.

"He's thirty- _three_ , you knobhead!"

This made Kingsley pause. He furrowed his brow at her.

"Eh?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, cocking her head at him in confusion. "He's ten years older than I am."

Kingsley blinked at her, his eyes distant.

"… I guess I did know that," he finally mumbled. "Weird."

"What's weird?"

He shook his head, letting out a huff of laughter.

"Nothing, it's just… I dunno, it's weird that he's younger than I am."

"Only by a year."

"Yeah, but I was at Hogwarts picking my nose while _he_ was in Tantallon Castle, spying for the Order."

"… it's not a competition, you know."

Kingsley grimaced.

"That's not the point. He was just a _kid_. They shouldn't have used him the way they did."

"I think he'd be the first to point out that they didn't have a choice."

"There's always a choice," he snapped. "Riddle may have used children in his armies, but that didn't give us the right to follow suit."

For a long moment, neither Auror spoke. Then Tonks drew in a long breath.

"I met him once, you know. Back when he was a Reaper."

Kingsley came to an abrupt halt.

" _What?_ "

She turned to face him, nodding.

"Yeah. Outside the Leaky Cauldron when he was fourteen. He was keeping an eye on Order members, and I just walked right up to him."

"Pretty brave for a four-year old."

Tonks shook her head, brow furrowing.

"It never occurred to me to be scared," she mused. "I just thought he looked sad. I gave him a chocolate frog."

Kingsley blinked at her incredulously.

"You gave him a _chocolate frog?_ "

"Hey, they always make _me_ feel better!" she protested, laughing. Kingsley shook his head at her in fond exasperation.

"D'you think he remembers?"

"I know he does. _He's_ the one who reminded _me_. Said that was the reason he started spying for Dumbledore. 'Course I think he was oversimplifying it, he was about four whiskies in when he told me this - "

"He betrayed Riddle because you gave him a _chocolate frog_?"

Kingsley's voice was slow, methodical, and filled with disbelief. Tonks grimaced.

"… I think it had less to do with the chocolate, and more to do with the fact that I wasn't asking for anything in return," she said quietly, eyes fixed on her boots. "Amazing what a bit of genuine kindness can do, eh?"

There was a long silence. Tonks finally looked up to find Kingsley's brown eyes searching hers intently.

"… you know you can't fix him, right?"

The question almost floored her. She choked, her heart suddenly racing.

"W – what?"

"You can't fix him, Tonks."

"I'm not _trying_ to fix – "

"Yes, you are," her friend said kindly, his eyes sympathetic. "But that's not your job. It's his."

She had no idea how to respond to this. She simply gaped at the man until he took pity on her and grasped her elbow, guiding her gently down the street.

"Come on, we're already late for the checkpoint."

It took several minutes of walking before she could gather her wits enough to speak again. She pulled free from his hand and swallowed thickly.

"… I take it you learned that lesson the hard way."

She glanced up at him and he sighed, eyes suddenly very serious.

"You could say that," he said wearily, then hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Maia was diagnosed with bipolar disorder three years ago."

"… shit."

"My thoughts exactly," he said ruefully. "It was hard for a long time. Really hard. Especially before the diagnosis. She refused to believe me when I said that something was wrong."

He grimaced, scuffing his boots along the cobblestones.

"You can't… make someone get help. You can't make them change. You can pour your entire soul into someone and get nothing back. It has to come from them."

He glanced over to find Tonks staring at him. His lips quirked into an awkward smile.

"She's a lot better now," he said quietly, "don't worry."

"I'm sorry you two had to go through that."

"It's okay," he said with a shrug and a smile. "Gives me the right to annoy all my mates with hard-won relationship advice."

Tonks snorted.

"I wasn't annoyed, I was just…" she struggled for the right words, an image of an angry Charlie Weasley playing across the back of her mind, "… surprised. That's not the first time someone's accused me of trying to fix Remus."

"It's not an accusation," Kingsley assured her. "If anyone deserves a bit of TLC, it's Lupin. I just don't want you to get hurt. That bloke has more issues than the Daily Prophet."

"I asked him to start going to therapy last week. He's already been to two sessions."

Kingsley stopped again. Tonks turned to face him, a smile playing at her lips. At this rate, they would never make it to the checkpoint.

"He really loves you."

It was not a question, and Tonks was shocked to find tears suddenly pricking at the corners of her eyes. She forced them back viciously and raised her chin.

"Yes."

"Do you love him?"

He was full of hard questions tonight. Tonks clenched her fists and drew in a shaking breath.

"… I don't know."

"Good," he said, nodding shortly. "These things should take time."

With that, he walked briskly past her and continued down the street. Tonks hurried after him, chuckling.

"Alright, who kidnapped my friend and replaced him with Frasier Crane?"

"… who?"

"You're not big into Muggle sitcoms, are you?"

"What the hell is a sitcom?"

"Never mind."

They rounded the last corner and made for Lunar Square, where their patrol had started over an hour ago. Five more trips along the winding route the compass showed them, and they could go home. The muted sound of voices ahead told them that the other teams were waiting.

"What d'you want to bet Dawlish has already used up all his ammo on the rats?"

"Oh, I'm sure he has," Kingsley replied drily. "Look up the word _overzealous_ in the dictionary and it's just a picture of his ugly mug."

The street opened up onto a large courtyard. Lunar Square was in the center of the district, and it served as the primary meeting point and market place for the werewolf population. Tonks had never been here during the day, but the rubbish that littered the ground and the lingering smell of street food and cigarette smoke served as an eerie reminder of the living, breathing people who were now sequestered behind closed doors.

A crowd of Aurors and WCU officers was gathered near the old fountain in the middle of the square. As Tonks and Kingsley approached, Neil Mulligan turned to face them, his hazel eyes wide and his brown hair sticking up in every direction.

"Oh, thank Merlin," he said with a relieved smile. "I was just about to send a few teams to look for you."

"Sorry mate," Tonks said with an apologetic smile. "Took a wrong turn back there."

The young man paled.

"Is your compass not working?" he demanded. Tonks grimaced.

"Okay, we're just slow," she grumbled. Kingsley hid a snigger behind his hand and she elbowed him. Neil tried to fix her with a stern glare, but just ended up looking terrified.

"Try to keep to time, will you?" he almost begged. "If you get hurt in here, it's my arse on the line."

Tonks nodded solemnly and Neil turned away. Not for the first time, Tonks wondered why Crowther had assigned such a young officer to run point. The poor boy looked positively nauseous.

"Alright, everyone," he called out, "we're all checked in. Meet back here in an hour. And remember – you run into trouble, send your Patronus to find help. If you get in over your head, tap the compass twice with your wand and it will take you back to the entrance gate."

"We get it, kid," one of the other WCU officers growled. "You told us this already."

"A little repetition never hurt anyone," Neil snapped in reply. His colleague just rolled his eyes.

As the others quickly dispersed, Tonks took the opportunity to examine the neglected fountain nearby. It was covered in so much algae that she could barely identify the carved stone wolf that served as its centerpiece. A sad little stream of water bubbled from the wolf's howling mouth and dripped down into the noxious green pool beneath. Someone had written _UMBRIDGE IS A CUNT_ on the wolf's side in pulsating yellow spray paint. While it wasn't the most original of insults, Tonks couldn't help but agree.

"Shall we?" Kingsley asked, gesturing towards the stone archway that represented their own path into the labyrinth. Tonks sighed.

"If we must."

As they approached the edge of the square, the Lunar District Orphanage loomed over them. The massive Victorian structure was crumbling at the edges, centuries-old bricks showing their age. Its large glass windows were dark, reflecting the light of the waxing moon in the sky above. Tonks paused, staring up at the menacing façade. She could hear nothing but the mournful hum of wind through the narrow streets and the rustling of old newspaper in the square behind her.

"We're going to be late again if you keep this up," Kingsley said pointedly. One side of the stone archway under which he now stood was propped up by the wall of the orphanage. Tonks hurried to join him.

"What an appalling place for a child to spend Christmas…" she muttered as she brushed past him.

"What an appalling place for _anyone_ to spend Christmas," he agreed, following her.

"We need to do something about this, Kings," she snarled, tightening her grip on her wand. "We can't keep these people locked up in here like… like animals!"

"But they _are_ animals, at least in the eyes of the Ministry," he pointed out grimly. "Beast Division, remember?"

"But it's not _fair!_ " she cried, feeling childish but unable to stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. "Hogwarts is full of little snot rags like Draco Malfoy, but these kids don't get an education because of something they didn't ask for and can't control."

"I'm going to play devil's advocate for a moment here and remind you that werewolves _are_ , in fact, dangerous. Hell, Lupin wasn't even _trying_ to infect the Weasley boy – "

"He saved Ron's life!"

"I know that," Kingsley replied calmly. "I'm just saying, it's remarkably easy to spread this disease, even if the werewolf has the best intentions. For fuck's sake, you could get infected just by sharing his _toothbrush_."

"Then we'll just have to clean our teeth with magic then, won't we?" Tonks growled. Kingsley sighed.

"You're taking this far too personally – "

"How else am I supposed to take it?" she demanded.

"Tonks, I _agree_ with you," he insisted. "But if you really want to change things, you have to acknowledge other points of view. Most people don't have their prejudices challenged on a daily basis by a sexy werewolf boyfriend."

Tonks couldn't hold back the laughter that followed this statement. She looked over at Kingsley to find him smiling ruefully.

"Don't tell him I said that."

"You kidding?" she said, grinning from ear to ear. "That's the _first_ thing I'll tell him when he gets back from… wherever the hell he is."

"I was simply voicing what I assume to be your own opinions on the matter," her friend said primly, lips twitching. "Personally, I don't see it. He's a scrawny beanpole, a good wind would probably knock him over."

"He's a lot stronger than he looks," Tonks assured him as they came to a stop. Another narrow cobblestone street crossed theirs at an angle and they stood at the junction, assessing their options.

"Any idea which way we went last time?"

Kingsley shook his head.

"It all looks the bloody same in here," he muttered. With a sigh, Tonks plunged her hand into her pocket to retrieve the compass. She held it out, peering down at the small silver arrow as it spun and wavered.

"This way – "

Something smashed into her back, throwing her face first into the ground. She landed hard and lost her grip on both the compass and her wand. They skittered across the cobbles and out of sight as she tried and failed to pull air into her lungs.

" _The wand, get the wand!_ "

"Get _off_ me, you little prick!"

The tone of Kingsley's voice was part anger, part confusion. There was a distinctive _thump_ of bone meeting flesh, and someone let out a pained grunt. Harried footsteps on the ground in front of her told Tonks that someone else was laying hands on her wand. She gritted her teeth. Air or no air, she was getting up.

"Lydia, the _girl_ – "

Out of the corner of her eye, Tonks saw a boot on a collision course with her head. Turning onto her shoulder, she grabbed it and twisted hard, bringing its owner to the ground with a surprised shout. Instinct taking over, Tonks suddenly found the pistol in her hands, the barrel pointed straight between two wide, amber eyes.

For a moment, everything froze. Tonks stared at the girl in front of her. She was fifteen, maybe sixteen years old, her skin shiny and pockmarked by adolescence. Her dark brown hair fell limply about her face, and the filthy green hoody she wore was far too big for her. She glared back at the pink-haired Auror, chin jutting out defiantly. Tonks blinked.

" _Expelliamis!_ "

Though poorly cast, the spell still proved to be effective. It threw Tonks to the side and she tumbled head over heels across the cobbles. Miraculously, she managed to hold on to the pistol. As she came to an undignified stop against the wall, a deafening _crack_ reverberated through the narrow street. Tonks's ears popped and her head swam, and for a moment she could hear nothing but her own labored breathing. Right in front of her, in the light of a dying streetlamp, a horrifying scene was playing out.

Two young men were wrestling Kingsley to the ground. The tall Auror was putting up a valiant fight but, scrawny or not, werewolves were almost twice as strong as a normal human. One of the men had his knee on Kingsley's back, driving him face first into the filthy street. The other man was trying to pry the pistol away from him. Tonks's eyes landed on her friend's wand, momentarily forgotten against the opposite wall. Shoving her pistol back into its holster, she launched herself across the narrow street.

A jet of red light pierced the air in front of her and she ducked, throwing herself the rest of the way. She grabbed Kingsley's wand and rolled, ending up on her stomach with the wand outstretched. A dark-skinned boy stood further down the street, her wand clutched tightly in his hand.

" _Bombarda!_ " he screamed, flailing the wand desperately. Nothing happened.

" _Stupefy!_ "

The boy dropped like a stone. But Tonks had no time to congratulate herself. The girl was already on top of her. One vicious kick and Kingsley's wand went sailing out of her hand. Then Lydia's fist smashed against her temple and Tonks saw stars. Unnaturally strong fingers wrapped around her throat and began to squeeze. Tonks squirmed underneath the young werewolf, heart hammering in her ears as she felt her windpipe collapsing. Somewhere in the distance, another shot rang out. Her vision was fading. Her lungs were burning.

_I will NOT die like this._

Tonks stopped scrabbling like an idiot at the hands around her neck. Balling up her left fist, she drove it into Lydia's throat. The werewolf grunted, her grip loosening just enough for Tonks to get a single gasp of sweet air. Bella shifted her weight and Tonks seized the opportunity to plunge her hand into her robes. She didn't even take the pistol out of its holster. She just pointed it upwards and pulled the trigger.

Lydia's body jerked upwards, then collapsed onto Tonks. Her hands went slack, and air rushed back into the Auror's lungs. Tonks coughed violently, her chest heaving. The werewolf was heavy and unmoving, her body trapping the pistol painfully against Tonks's stomach. Hot, sticky liquid was running down her hands. With a cry, she shoved the girl off and her body rolled limply to the side. Tonks rolled the other way, shuddering uncontrollably. Across the street, the two men had succeeded in pinning Kingsley to the ground and disarming him. One of them was pointing the other pistol at his head.

" _Stop!_ " she screamed, but it came out as more of a croak. She staggered to her feet, pulling her own pistol out of her robes with some difficulty. The heat of discharge had warped and twisted the leather holster around the barrel. The man holding the gun glanced up at her, amber eyes practically glowing.

"Put the gun down or he gets it!"

Tonks was forced to reassess her assumption that this was a grown man. His voice was cracking with desperation, and his frame was lanky in a way that spoke of uncoordinated growth spurts. She trained her pistol on him and forced herself to take long, steady breaths.

"… why are you doing this?" she managed to whisper. " _Why?_ "

The boy didn't respond. His strawberry blond hair was sticking straight up, giving him an oddly manic appearance. His whole body seemed to be twitching, the fingers of his left hand drumming nervously against his thigh. The barrel of his gun wavered in tandem.

"You don't have to do this," Tonks croaked, shaking her head. "I can help you, I can – "

A burst of manic laughter silenced her.

"Like you helped Lydia?"

He raised his twitching hand and pointed. Tonks looked down at the girl, lying on her back in a spreading pool of blood. Her green jumper was dark and glistening around the hole in her chest, and her eyes were dull and sightless as they stared at the sky. A thin stream of red leaked from the side of her mouth and dripped down her cheek.

Movement out of the corner of her eye reminded Tonks of her tenuous situation. She didn't need to look to know that the boy was turning his gun on her. He was done talking. She darted to the side as he pulled the trigger, then took a shot of her own. He fell hard, screaming in agony and clutching at his destroyed kneecap. Tonks darted forward and grabbed his fallen gun, then pointed both pistols at the young man who was pushing Kingsley's face into the ground.

"Get off him. _Now._ "

The boy needed no further prompting. He scrambled to his feet and backed away, hands in the air. He was the oldest of the lot, probably in his late teens, with long red hair tied back in a ponytail and a sallow, unhealthy complexion.

"Please," he choked, shaking his head, "we just wanted – "

Tonks never found out what they wanted. Another shot rang out and the young man's body jerked. She stared helplessly as his golden eyes widened with surprise, then dulled. He fell to his knees and pitched forward, his face landing on the street with a horrible _thump_.

"Nice shot, Mulligan. Right in the heart."

Two men emerged from a side street. One of them walked right past the fallen werewolf, but the other – Neil – stopped and stared down at his handiwork.

"You alright?"

Tonks blinked. A familiar WCU officer was standing in front of her, his voice strangely kind. It was the same grizzled man she had stunned in front of Grimmauld Place two nights previously. Not that he remembered it.

"Is that all of them?"

She nodded numbly, unable to speak. He glanced down at the pistols in her hands.

"Want to give those to me?"

She just stared at him. He took another step closer.

"Hey. You're alright, lass. It's over."

Tonks felt someone come up behind her and she jerked away, backing up towards the closest wall with her pistols held high.

"Easy there, Tonks. It's _me_."

She blinked. Kingsley was standing in front of her, hands held out placatingly. The right side of his face was covered in blood from a nasty cut on his forehead.

"Can you put those down for me?" he asked quietly. "Please?"

She swallowed thickly, then took in a long, shuddering breath. She nodded.

"Yeah," she said, nodding shortly. "Yeah."

Bending her knees, she laid the pistols carefully on the ground. Then she stepped away from them. Her fingers felt wet and slippery. Holding up her hands, she stared blankly at the dark red liquid that coated them.

_"Tergeo."_

Kingsley's murmured spell removed all trace of Lydia's blood. Tonks blinked, then looked up at her friend. He was standing in front of her, both of their wands in his hand. His brown eyes were fixed on her, his gaze unreadable.

"Come on," he said softly. "Let's get out of here."


	6. Chapter 6

"You only did what you had to do, Miss Tonks."

Abraham Crowther stared her down from behind his desk, his eyes alarmingly blue in the moonlight streaming through the charmed window of his subterranean office. Tonks clenched her fists and her teeth, her back so straight that she almost believed her own professionalism.

"Yes, sir."

"They were probably after your wands. You can get a lot of money for a wand in there."

Tonks didn't trust herself to respond to this with anything other than vitriol. Beside her, Kingsley shifted on his feet.

"Why can't they just _have_ wands, sir?"

Crowther raised white eyebrows at the tall man standing in front of him.

"If you had ever faced an armed, fully-trained werewolf in combat, you wouldn't be asking me that question."

"They were _children._ "

Tonks didn't realize she was speaking until the words were already out of her mouth. Crowther blinked at her, startled by her tone.

"They were not children," he countered. "Ambrose Falstaff was eighteen years old and a known drug dealer. Lydia Ballantine was sixteen, but she chose to leave the orphanage last month. She was legally responsible for herself, and she made her own poor choices."

"Poor choices that _your_ policies probably forced upon her!"

There was a brief silence. A muscle twitched in Crowther's jaw, but his expression remained neutral. He slowly laced his fingers together atop the incident report he was compiling.

"I am aware that not everyone agrees with my policies," he said quietly. "You are young and idealistic, and I respect that. But ideals don't keep the wizarding world safe, Miss Tonks. _I_ do _._ "

"Safe from _what?_ Problems of your own making?"

This seemed to hit a nerve. Icy rage flashed in Crowther's eyes for a moment, only to be swiftly repressed. His lips pulled into a thin smile.

"More witches and wizards were infected with lycanthropy during the War than in the previous two centuries combined," he informed her coldly. "I didn't create this outbreak, but I _am_ trying to contain it. If you want to blame someone, why don't you start with your friend Lupin?"

"He hasn't bitten anyone since he was _twelve_ – "

Harsh laughter cut her off. Crowther was shaking his head at her incredulously.

"Is that what he told you? Unbelievable…"

"You calling him a liar?"

"Tonks…"

"He's a professional liar, you stupid girl!" Crowther snapped, ignoring Kingsley's uncomfortable interjection. "He knows exactly how to manipulate people, he's been doing it his entire life! He played both sides during the War so no matter how the cards fell, he'd be safe. He's not some _tragic_ _hero_ , he's a _sociopath_ , and you'd do well to stay away from him!"

His impassioned words were met with uneasy silence. Tonks glared at the old man, her chest heaving with angry breaths as he glared right back. Kingsley just crossed his arms tightly over his chest and stared at the floor. Finally, Crowther drew in a sharp breath.

"Despite what you may have heard about me," he said crisply, "I do _not_ enjoy restricting the rights of people whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But lycanthropy is a virulent disease that must be stomped out. You should understand that, you were right there when Lupin infected the Weasley boy."

"That was an accident – "

"A likely story," he interrupted imperiously. "The instinct to infect is strong, Miss Tonks. Transformed werewolves do not kill their prey, they only _bite_ them. Lupin has been on a very tight leash for a very long time, and he has clearly tired of it. Now if you don't mind, I need to get back to the business of catching him before he infects someone else."

He stood abruptly and swept around his desk, dark blue robes billowing behind him.

"I trust forensics is finished with your wands," he said, pulling open the door and gesturing them out. "I'm sure you won't mind if we hold on to your firearms. There will be a full inquiry next week – nothing to worry about, just routine process. In the meantime… Happy Christmas."

Tonks and Kingsley didn't move. They stood there, staring at him, until a muscle twitched in his jaw and he shifted his weight impatiently.

"Go _home_ ," he snapped. "Get some rest. You've earned it. Report back here day after New Years."

"How much longer do we have to follow your orders?" Tonks demanded. " _Sir?_ "

He blinked. Then his lips curled up into a thin smile and his blue eyes glinted.

"Until Lupin is with his friends in Azkaban."

Then he turned and left the room, leaving her to shiver at the cold finality of his words. For a moment, neither Auror moved. Then Kingsley cleared his throat.

"… come on," he grunted, jerking his head towards the door. "I dunno about you, but I need a drink."

He reached out to take her elbow, but she shied away from his grasp, taking the lead as they made their way out of Beast Division. They didn't speak as they climbed the stairs – the lifts were still out of order – and she could feel his concerned eyes on the back of her neck as they started down the corridor towards the Auror office. She wished he would look somewhere – anywhere – else.

Moody met them at the door of the empty office, a bundle of grey fabric in his hands. His scarred face was pulled into an angry grimace.

"… heard what happened," he growled as they came to a stop in front of him. "Crowther needed replacements for the rest of your shift, Dawlish and Adebayo were none too pleased."

His magical eye swept up and down Tonks's body, searching for injuries.

"Someone seen to your neck?" he demanded, pointing at the bruises that ringed her windpipe. She nodded mutely.

"WCU has a resident Healer," Kingsley explained from beside her. Moody nodded curtly, both of his eyes now fixed on Tonks.

"You alright, lass?"

"Fine."

His lips pulled into a thin, skeptical line.

"Here," he grunted, holding up the bundle of grey fabric. "Thought you'd want this."

It was Remus's jumper. She had worn it to work that day and left it at her desk before going on patrol. She stared at it for a moment, then glanced back up at Moody.

"I know it's his," he grunted. "I gave it to him ages ago to replace another jumper he wore to ribbons. When this is all over, take him shopping, will you? The man's hopeless."

Humor was currently lost on Tonks. She didn't even crack a smile as she shrugged out of her filthy robes and pulled her t-shirt over her head. Dried blood flaked onto the floor and her colleagues cleared their throats awkwardly, but she couldn't bring herself to care about decorum. Standing there in nothing but jeans and a sports bra, she stared at the dark stains that ran down her thighs.

" _Scourgify_ ," she muttered, brandishing her wand at the blood. The stains faded, but only a bit. It would have to do. She grabbed the jumper out of Moody's hands and pulled it over her head. Remus's scent engulfed her and the knot in her stomach loosened, allowing a shudder to ripple through her body. When she looked up again, both men were watching her. The sympathy in their eyes made her want to scream.

" _Accio firewhiskey_."

A drawer in Kingsley's desk flew open and a half-full bottle sailed across the room and into his outstretched hand. He popped the cork and held the bottle out to her. She grabbed it and took a deep swig, grimacing as the liquor burned all the way down her throat.

"I assume Crowther's handling all the paperwork?"

"Yeah," Kingsley murmured. "I'm amazed the bastard can even hold a quill, he's so slippery."

"What'd he say this time?"

"Some guff about Lupin. Said he was only helping us during the War so he'd be protected no matter who won."

Moody snorted.

"If that bloody werewolf cared that much about his own hide, I wouldn't have to keep dragging him to St. Mungo's every time he magically exhausts himself."

Tonks was examining the label on the firewhiskey bottle. The room was spinning around her, but she was pretty sure it wasn't because she was drunk. Moody's gnarled hand fell on her shoulder and she flinched violently. The hand disappeared, and when she glanced up she could see the old man staring at her, concern in his mismatched eyes.

"Go home, lass," he said quietly. "Take some dreamless sleep potion. I'll check in with you tomorrow."

She nodded, fiercely resisting the urge to bury her face in the collar of Remus's jumper. Moody shot Kingsley a meaningful glance, and the tall Auror again reached out to grasp her elbow. Again, she shied away from him.

"…'s alright," she said, shaking her head. "I can apparate on my own."

"Tonks, you're exhausted, and you just had about three shots of whiskey in one go – "

"I said I'm alright!"

Her anger clearly shocked the two men. They blinked at her, open-mouthed. But she didn't have the energy or the inclination to apologize. She shoved the bottle back into Kingsley's hand, pulled out her wand, and screwed her eyes shut.

She landed in a dark alley off Regent Street. For a moment, she teetered on one foot and almost fell over. Grabbing a rubbish bin, she pulled herself upright. The walls seemed to close in on her and she threw herself out into the light. Cold, fresh air hit her face and she drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The sound of car horns and laughter, the smell of the chippy nearby, and the twinkle of Christmas lights overhead was like a soothing balm on her ragged mind.

She stood there, letting the normalcy of Muggle London seep into her bones. In this world, werewolves were something out a storybook, magic was impossible, and people weren't still reeling from a horrible war. For the first time in her life, Tonks wished that she was a Muggle.

Someone brushed past her shoulder, and Tonks realized that she had been standing in one spot for ages. Shaking herself, she began to walk. It took nearly an hour to get to Grimmauld Place, but Tonks was grateful for the mindless task of putting one foot in front of the other. Her eyes were fixed on the ground, her body taking the necessary turns without instruction. Her place was too solitary, her mum and dad would ask too many questions, but Sirius was invariably drunk on Christmas Eve. She could go there and offer no explanation for her unexpected appearance.

She didn't realize she had arrived until her eyes rose to meet the blank gaze of the morbid brass house elf that served as a knocker. For a long moment, she just stared at it. Her key was somewhere in the disaster zone that was her flat. The house elf finally opened his mouth.

"Just as well you're not knocking," he wheezed unpleasantly. "We don't want your sort in here, no half-blood freaks in the House of Bl – "

She raised the brass bar and pounded the house elf's face repeatedly with it.

"Sirius really needs to do something about you," she snapped. The house elf stuck his tongue out but said no more. Nearly a minute passed, and she was about to knock again when a muffled voice and footsteps sounded from inside.

"… had nothing to do with it, Potter! _You_ were the one who decided to take your trousers off!"

The door swung open and Sirius blinked out at her, wearing a bright red Christmas jumper with tiny flashing snitches all over it. The sound of raucous caroling and drunken laughter drifted out from behind him.

"Tonksy!" he crowed happily, swaying on his feet. "I thought you were on duty tonight!"

Tonks grimaced. He wasn't quite drunk enough to forget that particular detail.

"… got off for good behavior," she managed to croak. "Can I come in?"

"Can you come in?!" he repeated, laughing. "You barmy shapeshifter, get in here and have a drink!"

He turned and led her down the narrow hallway towards the library, weaving gently from side to side and occasionally putting out a hand to steady himself against the wall. A large, ornately carved wooden door came into view, through which Tonks could hear Harry and James debating the legality of a Wronski Feint.

"… 's not _Krum's_ fault that Monahan couldn't pull up! It's a – _hic_ – dangerous game, Dad, tha's the whole _point_. You can't just outlaw things you don't – "

"All I'm saying," James interrupted imperiously, "is it shouldn't be allowed at Hogwarts! You're _too young_ – "

"Harry can finally drink with us," Sirius boasted, turning to grin at Tonks as they paused outside the door. The reciprocating grin he'd clearly been expecting failed to materialize and he swayed awkwardly on his feet in the face of her silence. Then he reached for the door handle.

"Come on, they'll be chuffed to see you."

"I just need to change," Tonks murmured, gesturing upstairs. "I'll be down in a bit."

"Righty-ho!" he crowed, pulling open the door and launching himself back into the fray. "James, they can't abolish the Wronski Feint at Hogwarts, tha's Harry's best move!"

Content in the knowledge that her exuberant cousin had already forgotten her presence, Tonks made her way up the stairs. Her feet were like lead weights that she dragged wearily up the wooden steps. Down the carpeted hall and up a second, narrower staircase, she found herself on the third floor. Turning left, she pushed open the first door on the right, waved her wand and watched the candles flicker to life.

The bedroom was exactly as she had left it last. It was a cozy little space with a bay window that looked out over a shabby garden that nobody had tended in decades. Posters of the Weird Sisters covered almost every inch of the peeling green wallpaper, and some of her old Hogwarts schoolbooks were lying on the bedside table gathering dust. It was going on fifteen years since she'd chosen the room as her home away from home, the place she always stayed when she was visiting Sirius. As she stood there, one hand still on the doorframe, a burst of muffled laughter filtered up through the old house.

Leaving the door open, she walked to the bed and sank down onto the garish patchwork quilt her Muggle grandmother had given her when she was a baby. Scraps of orange, purple and green fabric clashed horribly under a thin layer of dust and Tonks smiled faintly. Grammy Tonks had always loved her only grandchild's questionable choices in hair color.

A gust of wind howled outside and the candle by her bed sputtered in protest. She pulled the neck of Remus's jumper over her nose and took a deep breath. Wood smoke, soap, and his sweat. The room swam before her eyes and she blinked furiously, bracing her hands on her knees. Even as she fought back tears, her gaze was drawn inevitably to the dark stains on her jeans.

With a muttered curse, Tonks rocketed to her feet and fumbled with the button, then the zipper. She peeled the tight trousers down her legs, then realized her shoes were still on. Tearing at the double knots with stubby fingernails, she finally pried the trainers off and hurled them across the room. Flinging the jeans after them, she realized that blood had soaked through to the upper portion of her panties. These too were quickly removed, leaving her quivering in the middle of the room in nothing but Remus's jumper.

Her head was swimming from too much oxygen. She forced herself to take fewer breaths. She cast her eyes about for something – anything – to ground her, to get her mind off…

Her gaze landed on the books sitting beside her bed. One of them was from her NEWT Defense class – an annotated version of an ancient Roman text on curses. She picked it up and sat back down on the bed, ignoring the cloud of dust that rose from the sheets. She hadn't been in this room since Christmas of last year, and it showed.

The book fell open to a familiar page. Tonks snorted. She and Penny had laughed long and hard over the Itchy Bollocks Curse, devised to humiliate Roman politicians in front of the Senate. She thumbed through a few more pages, smirking at the notes she and her friends had written in the margins.

A folded piece of parchment fell out of the book and fluttered to the floor. Tonks reached down and picked it up, flipping it open. She recognized the handwriting immediately.

_Nymphadora Tonks_

_DADA NEWT Midterm Practical_

_Excellent work on the Dementor. Pity your Patronus is a bunny rabbit, that won't exactly strike fear into the hearts of hardened criminals. Don't worry though, it will probably change as you get older and more jaded._

_You don't need me to tell you how your duel with McLaggen went. I would thank you for putting the little prick in the Hospital Wing for a week, but that would be unprofessional of me._

_Your stealth and tracking is still abysmal. Honestly, how do you manage to trip on so many things with feet as small as yours? Walk slower, take your time. Better to lose your target than get caught. Moody will literally turn you into a ferret next year if you can't stay upright._

_Stop relying on your morphing so much. There are ways to keep a Metamorphmagus from shifting, and you don't want to be a sitting duck if someone figures it out. And for Merlin's sake, next time one of the boys asks you to morph your chest bigger, do me a favor and punch him in the face before I do? Some things are worth detention._

_Pass with Distinction_

_Professor R. Lupin_

Tonks didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She stared at Remus's signature for what felt like ages. She could almost hear his hoarse voice in her ear. Her breathing was back to normal, her heartrate had slowed. She returned the book to the clean patch on her bedside table from whence it came, and laid Remus's note reverently on the bed. Then she rose, pulled off his jumper and her bra, and strode into the bathroom.

She started the shower, then caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She was too exhausted to be alarmed by her appearance. Her skin was smeared with Lunar District filth, her hair caught between pink and brown and standing on end. Her eyes were wide and red-rimmed, staring out of the mirror like they didn't recognize her. A faded pattern of bruises ringed her neck. The WCU Healer had seen to the worst of it, but some things the body needed to do on its own.

With a sigh, she stepped into the shower. Hot water soaked sore muscles and she groaned. Grabbing the desiccated bar of soap in front of her, she slowly worked it into a lather under the stream of water. Minutes passed in a daze, and Tonks methodically cleaned every inch of her body, removing any trace of Lunar District from her skin. Her eyes were fixed on the tiles in front of her, studying the faded blue pattern until it was burned into her retinas.

It took a while for Tonks to realize that she was in pain. With a jerk, she looked down at her hands. Her fingertips were red and raw, one of them bleeding from a torn nail. She had been scrubbing at them for so long that the bar of soap was all but gone. Even as she stared at the blood dripping down her forearm, Tonks felt the water begin to run cold.

She turned off the tap and stepped shakily out of the tub. Wrapping herself in a towel that smelled mysteriously like old coffee, she shuffled back into the bedroom and grabbed her wand out of the back pocket of her discarded jeans. A quick spell healed her bleeding fingernail, but the pain remained, phantom and aching.

The clock on her bedside table read 1:30 in the morning. The voices downstairs seemed to be dying down. She was still wet, but Tonks pulled Remus's jumper back on anyway and crawled into bed. The candles flickered, and she realized that any dreamless sleep potion Sirius might have was either in his room, or in the kitchen. She made to get up, but her body didn't move.

She stared at the ceiling for what felt like an age. A spider was crawling across it, darting around cracks and gullies in the aging white plaster. She watched as it made slow progress from one corner of the room to the other. There was no sound, except for the mournful sighs of the wind in the garden outside. Exhaustion began to take over and her eyelids drooped. Maybe when she woke up, everything would make sense again…

_Her footsteps echoed through the empty street. The buildings were crumbling around her, stained with age and neglect. The air was damp, the chill settling into her bones and promising to stay there._

_The shadows parted, and she could see a figure standing before her. A girl. Her back was to Tonks, long brown hair falling limply down her shoulders. Tonks took another step forward._

_The girl turned. Dark blood streamed from her mouth, contrasting horribly with her unnaturally pale face. Her chest was blown open, bloody fabric torn and flapping uselessly about the hole. And her eyes…_

_Tonks moaned and stumbled backwards. Those golden eyes were fixed upon her, wide and unseeing. The girl started forward, her gait unsteady, yet unrelenting. Tonks tripped over her own feet and fell hard, trying desperately to scramble away. But the girl was already on top of her, bloodstained hands reaching for her neck…_

Tonks awoke with a choked cry. The ghost of a body rested on her chest; hot liquid poured down her hands. She flailed, suffocating under the unbearable pressure.

"Get off, get _off!_ "

She rolled, taking the quilt with her as she fell out of bed. The floor rose to meet her, hard and cold against her back, and for a moment Tonks couldn't breathe. Then air poured into her lungs and she curled into a miserable ball, coughing and swearing.

"… fuck this…"

She untangled herself from the quilt and staggered to her feet. Striding to her dresser, she rifled about for a pair of warm socks. Finding some that Molly had knitted for her last Christmas, she pulled them on and crept out of the room, grabbing her wand along the way.

The first floor was deserted. The door of the library was ajar and the fire was dying, casting a warm glow over a messy, festive scene. The tree in the corner seemed even bigger than normal, its decorations even more elaborate. Several empty bottles and a few glasses on the table told Tonks that Harry might not be the only one with a hangover tomorrow morning.

She padded further down the hall and stuck her head into the kitchen. Her eyes landed immediately on a familiar armchair. Her feet took her to it without instruction and she sat down, curling her legs up and wrapping her arms around them. She stared at the cold, black fireplace in front of her. The two mugs were still sitting on the side table. Craning her neck to examine their contents, she couldn't help but smile. Remus must have finished her drink while she was sleeping the other night.

Right. Sleep.

She rose slowly to her feet. Now drained of adrenaline, her body was protesting its ill treatment. Rubbing a sore muscle in her shoulder, Tonks made her way to the cupboard by the sink and pulled it open. Her heart sank. Plenty of Hangover Easy and several bottles of expired Pepper Up, but no dreamless sleep potions. Her eyes drifted further up until she was peering at the top shelf. The bottle of Lagavulin was still half full. She would never understand why Sirius and the others preferred firewhiskey over the Muggle stuff.

Several minutes later she was back in the armchair, a very strong hot toddy in hand. The bottle of scotch sat on the table next to her, ready to make the drink even stronger. A flick of her wand set the fireplace blazing and she stared into it, watching the flames caress the ancient bricks. An image of a red-haired, golden-eyed young man leapt, unbidden, to the front of her mind and she gasped. The eyes went dull, and she couldn't tell if she was thinking about the boy in Lunar District, or Ron Weasley.

She gulped her drink so fast she burned the roof of her mouth. Ignoring the pain, she grabbed the bottle next to her and topped up her mug. The alcohol was already warming her stomach. This was far from the best way to deal with the situation. But right now, she really didn't care.

* * *

" _… Dora?_ "

A hoarse voice was speaking at the corners of her mind. She turned away. She just wanted to sleep.

" _… what are you doing here, love?_ _Why…_ "

The voice trailed off. Something was crackling in the background. A fire. Tonks could feel the warmth on her face. Calloused fingers brushed against her neck.

Her reaction was instantaneous and unbidden. She jerked awake, grabbing the wrist near her neck with one hand and lashing out with the other. Her fist glanced off bone with a painful jolt and she wound up for another swing.

"Oy, Dora!"

A strong hand intercepted her second punch and she struggled, trying to pull herself free.

"It's _me_ , love!"

She froze, eyes finally connecting with her brain. Remus was on his knees in front of her, amber gaze torn between distress and joy. She gaped at him.

"… R – Remus?"

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get – "

She lurched forward and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. He was still wearing Kingsley's hoody and he smelled even more like himself than usual, the wood smoke and sweat overpowering any lingering scent of soap. Tonks couldn't care less. She took deep, shuddering breaths against his warm skin and ran her left hand up into his hair.

"Hey, hey…" he murmured soothingly, arms wrapping around her waist. "I'm here, I'm right here."

When it became clear that she did not intend to release him, Remus hooked an arm under her knees and lifted her up, settling back into the chair with her in his lap. He pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head.

"Happy Christmas, love," he whispered. "Did you finish that bottle all by yourself?"

She did not respond. Instead, she pressed two fingers into the skin below his jaw. Her body vibrated with his low chuckle.

"Are you taking my pulse?"

"Mmhmm."

"And what are your conclusions, Dr. Tonks?"

"… you're alive. I plan… to keep you tha' way."

He pressed his lips to her head again, and her hair shifted as he took in a long, trembling breath.

"What happened?"

The whispered question was exactly what Tonks had been dreading. She stiffened. She was entirely too inebriated for this conversation.

"Why is your neck bruised?"

His fingers were under her chin, gently coaxing her eyes up to his. But she pulled away. She couldn't face his concerned gaze, not tonight, not now. The world was spinning too much, and her stomach was in revolt.

"… Dora?"

His voice was a mixture of confusion, worry, and hurt. It was this last emotion – the one he so rarely displayed – that pried words from her mouth.

"… I was in Lunar District," she managed to whisper through the growing nausea. His body stiffened beneath her.

" _What?_ " he hissed. "Why?!"

"Crowther thinks you're… hiding there."

His pulse was speeding up under her fingertips and she let out an involuntary whimper. All she wanted was to fall asleep with his arms around her, but it felt like he was about to explode. She squeezed her eyes shut as the room spun.

"… I love you, can we just… sleep?"

He was silent for so long that Tonks started to nod off against his shoulder. Finally, she felt soft lips and rough stubble on her forehead.

"Of course we can," he murmured shakily into her skin. Her hair moved again as he drew in a deep breath.

"D'you have a room here?" he asked quietly. "You won't be happy if you spend the whole night in this chair."

"Upstairs," Tonks mumbled. Her head was now tucked under his jaw, her nose pressed against his still rapid pulse. His arms tightened around her and then he was moving, rising easily to his feet. As he stepped away from the fire, Tonks felt a cold draft across her bum and she dimly remembered that she was naked under his jumper.

The motion of his body was oddly comforting as he navigated around the kitchen table, through the door, and up the stairs. His chest was firm and warm, and Tonks didn't even realize that she had dozed off until he was laying her gently down on her bed. Gentle, calloused fingers pulled her socks off.

"This quilt has you written all over it," he quipped as he pulled it up off the floor and over her. Then there was a rustle of parchment, and he barely managed to suppress a bark of laughter. She cracked an eye open. He was crouched beside the bed, looking down at his own handwriting from nearly seven years ago. Her lips spread into an exhausted smile.

"… I found it in one o' my books," she slurred, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the bedside table. "And for your information, Mr. Tonks… mmm… Lupin… my Patronus'still a bunny an' I like it that way."

His grin was chasing away the shadows in her head.

"Mr. Tonks, eh? Already thinking of making an honest man out of me?"

She giggled and reached for him.

"… c'mere, Mr. Tonks."

He hesitated.

"Dora, I – "

"Please?"

He stared at her for a long moment. She could see him giving in.

"You don't want me in bed with you," he said, shaking his head. "I've this disgusting jumper on, I'll get you all dirty."

"Then take it off."

He blinked, drew in a sharp breath as if to say something, then didn't. She tugged weakly at the collar of the maroon hoody.

"… take it off, love," she repeated softly, and his defenses finally fell. His throat bobbed and he dropped the parchment, leaning forward and pressing his lips firmly to hers. She returned the kiss as best she could. She really shouldn't have finished that bottle, her face felt numb.

Remus pulled away after several moments and rose to his feet. She watched him through half-lidded eyes as he pulled the jumper over his head. A slow, drunken smile spread across her face. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but this time she barely noticed the twin snakes twisting up his sternum. All she could see were the muscles that had just carried her up two flights of stairs like she weighed nothing.

The half-naked werewolf was avoiding her eyes, so he didn't notice her ogling him like a piece of meat. He turned and tossed the grimy jumper onto the growing pile of discarded clothes in the corner. Then he froze.

Tonks's stomach lurched when she realized what he had seen. She tried to push herself upright, with little success.

"… Remus – wait – "

But he was already crouching over her jeans. He picked them up with shaking hands, then held them to his nose. For a moment, the world stood still. Then he turned to her, his eyes flashing with wild fury.

"I can es – explain – " she stammered, shaking her head in a futile attempt to clear her senses. It only made her more nauseous.

"This is werewolf blood," he hissed. The words echoed around the small room and Tonks felt bile rising in her throat. Remus held the jeans out towards her.

" _This is werewolf –_ "

" _I know what it is!_ " she screamed. His eyes widened, and her stomach finally rebelled.

She was sick all over the floor. Remus cursed loudly and she heard his footsteps hurry into the bathroom. He was back with the rubbish bin just before a second wave of nausea hit her. She was too exhausted to flinch away when his gentle hands pulled her long brown hair out of the way as she vomited again. In the lull that followed, she heard him draw in a sharp breath.

"Dora, you have to tell me what happened. Are you alright? You're not feeling feverish, are you?"

One of his large hands covered her forehead and she leaned into the warmth, shuddering miserably. Without warning, she retched again.

" _Fuck_ …" he mumbled. When she had finished spitting into the rubbish bin, he turned her face gently towards him and peered into her eyes.

"How long ago did that blood get on you?" he demanded. She blinked.

"… a – a few hours…"

He visibly deflated.

"Oh thank God," he breathed, pulling away from her and running both hands down his face. "Thank fucking Merlin…"

She stared numbly at him as he bent over his knees. A particularly nasty-looking band of scar tissue encircled his right bicep, drawing her gaze and holding it.

"Please don't go to Lunar District again," he implored her, voice muffled. "Just… _don't_."

"… had to," she said in a monotone. "Crowther's orders."

"Since when does he tell Aurors what to do?!" he cried, sitting back up. "God, I'm going to rip his fucking _throat_ out!"

Tonks flinched violently and he clenched his fists, forcing himself to take steady breaths.

"… sorry," he muttered, then gestured to the bruises lining her neck. "I assume… _those_ have something to do with it?"

She didn't respond. Her eyes were now fixed, unseeing, on the floor. There was still vomit everywhere. Remus let out a weary sigh.

"Where's your wand?"

She had to think for a long moment.

"… downstairs."

"Okay. I'll be right back, just… stay here."

He left. Tonks continued to stare at the floorboards, the only sound the soft sputtering of the candles. She could still feel blood on her hands. She lowered the bin of vomit to the floor and lifted her fingers, examining them carefully in the dim light.

She didn't remember standing or walking into the bathroom, yet somehow here she was, in front of the mirror. Her hair was long and mousey brown, her eyes as dark as her Aunt Bella's were in the photograph her mum hid in her sock drawer. Tonks reached down and turned on the shower.

"… Dora?"

Remus's voice sounded from the bedroom, but Tonks barely heard it. She pulled his jumper over her head and let it drop to the floor.

"What are you – _shit_ , sorry, I'll – "

She raised one foot to get into the tub and promptly lost her balance. Strong arms caught her.

"Is this really the best time for a shower?" Remus demanded, his voice strained. His bare skin was warm against her back and she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"… have to get the blood off…" she murmured. The words were almost lost in the sound of rushing water.

"There's no blood on you, Dora," he said firmly. "You're clean, and very… can you put your jumper back on? Please?"

She made a small noise of protest as he bent over and picked up the garment in question. Pulling free of his hand on her waist, she grabbed the towel rack for balance and clambered awkwardly into the tub. Hot water soaked her instantly, the world tilted, and her knees almost gave way. Again, Remus caught her.

"Bloody hell, woman! Are you trying to kill me?"

She blinked up at him through the water streaming down her face. He was leaning into the tub, his upper body as soaked as she was. His sandy hair was plastered to his head and his eyes were fixed on hers.

"I killed her, Remus."

The man flinched. Whether it was from the sentence itself, or the surprisingly coherent manner in which she'd said it, Tonks didn't know.

"She was sixteen, and I killed her."

He didn't say anything. His eyes never left hers. She drew in a long, shuddering breath.

"… why did they… why were they…?"

She never finished the question. Her body succumbed to the shudders that were overtaking it and he caught her, lifting her out of the shower and carrying her back to the bed. She was barely aware of him toweling her dry, pulling the covers back and tucking her into them. The last thing she felt before sleep claimed her were his lips on her forehead and his thumb caressing her temple.


	7. Chapter 7

Pain. The early morning light cut through her eyelids and into her brain like a knife. She whimpered and pulled the covers over her head, but the pain did not recede. Her stomach twisted sharply and she gasped, the familiar taste of bile in her mouth. She hadn't felt this bad since the morning after the Hogsmeade Festival the summer before seventh year, when Penny and Andre had gotten their hands on a bottle of Drooble's Bubblegum Vodka. One night of glorious reveling, paid for by three days of misery and promises of sobriety long since broken…

Eyes still closed, Tonks furrowed her brow. What on earth had she done last night? Clearly she'd been vomiting. Her sheets smelled musty, which could only mean she was at Grimmauld Place. As she shifted, bare skin rasped against cotton and she realized she was naked. Interesting. She didn't normally sleep in her birthday suit.

Steeling herself, she pulled the sheets back down and squinted out at the world. The first thing that came into focus was the bedside table. The clock read 8:07, and some charitable soul had placed a bottle of Hangover Easy within reach. Snaking an arm out of the covers, she snagged it and disappeared back into her cocoon of relative darkness.

Hangover Easy was one of the more effective hangover cures, but it tasted truly foul – like rotting fish and rancid butter at the same time. Tonks gagged and forced the lumpy brown liquid down her throat, trying to keep it off her tongue. Not for the first time, she wondered if the potions manufacturers made it horrible on purpose, to dissuade people from needing it in the first place. Within a minute, however, her head felt marginally better. Two minutes later, she felt strong enough to face the sun.

Pulling the covers back down, she saw that she was, indeed, at Grimmauld Place. Blinking sleep out of her eyes, her gaze fell on a crumpled pile of clothes across the room. The sight dragged memories of the previous night back to the front of her mind.

For a moment she couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. It felt like Lydia was crushing her windpipe all over again. Then someone drew in a sharp breath behind her and Tonks whipped around, sitting up so fast her head spun and her stomach shrieked in protest.

Remus Lupin was curled up in the bay window, fast asleep. His maroon jumper and khaki trousers were absolutely filthy and his feet were bare, his toes almost white from the cold. His hair was even messier than usual, and his blond stubble was rapidly turning into a full beard. A dark bruise graced his right cheekbone and heavy bags under his eyes spoke of exhaustion and stress. Even now his features were troubled, and his breath was coming out in rapid, ragged gasps. He looked, in a word, rough.

Tonks stared at him. She was missing something here. When had he arrived? Why was he in her room? Why was she _naked_?

She pulled the sheet up over her chest, just in time. His body jerked and his eyes flew open, darting wildly about the room until they landed on Tonks. He blinked and the dream left him. His lips slowly curled into a weary smile.

"… hey," he rasped, still lying on his side. "Fancy seeing you here."

Tonks gaped at him. His head was pillowed on a threadbare stuffed quaffle she had received as a birthday present when she was five. The wall beside him bore a decade-old poster that had been signed by every member of the Weird Sisters. The curtains on the window around him bore a pattern of tiny flashing unicorns she had never bothered to change. He looked painfully out of place amongst her childhood belongings.

Her continued silence was obviously disconcerting. He pushed himself upright and ran a hand through his messy hair.

"… erm…"

"Why am I naked?" she demanded. "Did we…?"

She couldn't finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear. He blinked at her, his mouth open. Then his brow furrowed and he looked away, running a hand down his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was shaking.

"When I got here, you were so drunk you could barely stand. D'you honestly think I would have…"

He trailed off, glaring daggers at the wall opposite her bed. Then he clenched his jaw and jumped off the window seat.

"… 'm sorry, I'll leave you alone," he muttered, avoiding her gaze as he headed for the door.

"W – wait… Remus, _wait!_ "

Her cry brought him up short, but he continued to stare at the door, his shoulders set in a rigid line. She struggled for words.

"… look, I – I'm sorry, alright? I didn't know – "

"So you _assumed_ ," he snarled, turning on her. "You thought that I… that I – "

"No!" she cried, shocked to find tears pooling in her eyes. "No, I didn't, I just – I get sort of handsy when I'm drunk, and I don't want…"

She trailed off helplessly, trying to say with her eyes what she couldn't with her mouth. But he continued to stare at her, confused and hurt. She sighed and looked down at her quilt, bunching her hands in the fabric.

"… I don't want our first time to be like that."

She couldn't look at him. Only when his weight settled on the side of the bed did she let some of the tension fall from her shoulders. His fingers found their way under her chin and he lifted her eyes to meet his. His injured expression had been replaced with one of awestruck incredulity.

"Neither do I," he whispered, then let out a huff of laughter. "Dora, I _love_ you. If we have a first time, I want you to remember and enjoy every second of it."

"What d'you mean, _if_?" she asked with an attempt at a coy smile, reaching one hand up to tangle her fingers with his. "It's Christmas. Don't you remember what you asked for?"

To her surprise, the question seemed to sober him. His throat bobbed and his fingers tightened on hers. He examined her features carefully and she furrowed her brow.

"What?"

"D'you have any idea how much you scared me last night?"

The non-sequitur startled her, and she blinked.

"I saw those bruises on your neck," he said, gesturing to them, "and wanted to rip someone's guts out. Then you were sick, then you stripped in front of me and almost cracked your head open, then you said you _killed_ someone – "

Tonks sucked in a sharp breath. His hand was suddenly cupping her face, his thumb caressing her temple.

"What happened?" he asked intently, amber eyes fixed on her. "Please, love, just tell me."

She swallowed thickly. His face was blurry through the tears she refused to let fall.

"… you'll hate me."

To her surprise, he laughed.

"Are you serious? You know what I am, Dora, you know what I've done. I don't have the right to judge anyone, least of all _you_. You're the kindest person I've ever met. Whatever you did, I'm sure it was because you had no other choice."

She stared at him, hesitating. He wrapped her hands in both of his and held her gaze firmly.

"You were on patrol in Lunar District," he began for her. "As close as you can come to hell on earth. I assume you were attacked."

She swallowed, then nodded.

"… yes. There were four of them. Teenagers."

"Any tattoos?"

At her bewildered look, he grimaced.

"There are two packs in Lunar District. They fight over territory and stolen loot all the time."

"Crowther said they were after our wands."

"They probably were. Any of them fidgeting?"

He demonstrated with one hand, trembling it in the air like a leaf in a gale. She furrowed her brow.

"Erm… yeah, actually. The boy who threatened to kill Kings was shaking just like that."

"Howlite withdrawal. You can get a lot of money for a wand in there. Enough to keep four teenagers fixed up for a month."

"What's howlite?"

His lips pulled into a grim line.

"They used to give it to us in the packs. Gets you high as balls, but the real perk is it makes you less sensitive to aconite. We would always dose up before full moon attacks. It's addictive though and coming off it is virtually impossible."

"… how did you do it, then?"

His gaze faltered, and he looked down at their joined hands.

"… I didn't," he said softly. "I actually got worse, added some Muggle drugs to the mix. I overdosed when I was twenty-two. Would have died if Sev hadn't cast a monitoring charm on my vitals. He and Albus kept me in a coma until the last of it was out of my system."

When he glanced up to find her gaping at him, he made a face.

"The years right after the War were a particularly unattractive period in my personal history. I'm glad you didn't meet me then, you would have hated me. But back to the point – even if your attackers weren't affiliated with a pack, sourcing howlite is a powerful enough motivation to do just about anything."

Tonks rolled this new information around in her mind, brow furrowed and eyes fixed numbly on Remus's long fingers. He obviously bit his nails – they were even shorter and stubbier than hers.

"Were they armed?"

The question surprised her and she glanced up to find him looking at her expectantly.

"The mongrels. Did they have – "

"Don't use that word," Tonks snapped, surprised by the vehemence of her reaction. Remus blinked.

"Sorry, that… that's just what we call them. Young werewolves, I mean."

"It's a horrible term."

He shrugged.

"They're usually horrible people. It fits."

The look on her face must have conveyed the disgust she was feeling, because Remus began to look defensive.

"Dora, I don't know exactly what happened, but I _do_ know that if you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. Those kids shouldn't have attacked you, and they sure as hell shouldn't have tried to kill you!"

Rage sparked in his golden eyes as they flickered to the bruises on her neck and back up again.

"I used to be just like them," he spat, "and I killed innocent people. If anyone had managed to get a bullet in me, it would have been no more than I deserved."

His words rang in the silence for a moment. Snowflakes whispered quietly against the window outside. In this cold emptiness, Tonks finally came to the point.

"Her name was Lydia Ballantine. She was sixteen years old. She tried to strangle me, and I put a bullet through her chest."

She fumed at Remus, pulling her hands out of his and retreating into her cocoon of blankets. He just stared at her, expression unreadable.

"If what you said about howlite is true," she continued coldly, "then she didn't have much choice, did she? Snape and Dumbledore weren't there to save _her_."

He winced at this, turning his gaze down to the bedspread between them. Tonks examined him critically for a moment.

"I thought you, of all people, would have sympathy for her."

"I _do_ ," he protested. "For fuck's sake Dora, of course I do. But I used to _be_ her, don't you see? You could have tried to talk sense into her until you were blue in the face, and it wouldn't have made an ounce of difference. She still would have tried to kill you, and I'm glad you didn't let her!"

"I would have _given_ her my wand if she'd just told me what she wanted!"

"But she _didn't_. And you can't spend the rest of your life beating yourself up about that."

"Why? That's what _you_ do."

There was a long silence. His eyes were still fixed on the bedspread, his lips pulled into a grim line.

"Dora… I _wanted_ to kill some of those people. Not all of them, but… some of them. There's no excuse for that. If there is a hell I'm going there, but _you_ …"

He let out a huff of mirthless laughter and looked up at her.

"I may be biased, but from where I'm sitting, I don't see any blood on your hands. The blame for Lydia's death lies squarely with Crowther, and he knows it."

The name brought Tonks out of her own troubles with a jolt.

"Fuck, _Crowther_. Bloody hell, Remus, you can't be here! They could burst in any second!"

She threw the covers off, shivering as cold air met her bare skin. She hurried over to the dresser and grabbed some tattered old pajama bottoms that she hadn't worn since she was sixteen. Then she leaned into the bathroom and pulled Remus's grey jumper off the floor, pulling it over her head before turning to face him.

"Come on, we have to get you back to the Burrow!"

His eyes flickered back up to hers, mouth agape, expression caught between awe and confusion.

"… sorry?"

She let out a huff of frustration.

"We don't have time for this, you're in _danger_. Get your jaw off the floor, you saw all this," she gestured up and down her body impatiently, "last night."

His lips pulled into an incredulous smile.

"Dora, I was trying very hard not to look last night. 'Sides – you running about in front of me naked isn't something I'm going to get used to in a hurry."

Tonks valiantly fought back a blush. She had never been bashful, and she wasn't about to start now. She strode over to him and grabbed his hand, dragging him to his feet.

"After all this is over, you'll have plenty of time to get used to it," she said with a rueful glance. "For now, let's get you back where you're safe, alright?"

"I think I'm safer here than the Burrow, honestly."

"What? Why?"

He grimaced, sticking the hand that wasn't in hers into his pocket.

"Molly tried to take a chunk out of me when I got back with Ron last night. Would have succeeded too, if it weren't for Bill."

Tonks rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Right, that settles it. I'm telling her about Bella."

"What? No!"

"Every second you spend here is a risk!" Tonks cried, throwing her hands in the air. "Crowther's really got it in for you, I don't think he'll be happy until you're six feet under."

"The feeling's mutual."

"Did you kill his mother or something?"

He blinked in surprise.

"… no. I don't think so."

"He really seems to hate you. Said you were a manipulative liar and a sociopath."

"How ironic. That describes him to a tee."

She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Remus, you cannot stay here," she reiterated, her voice shaking. "If they get a warrant – "

"Bill said they already got one. He said they searched the place already."

"So? They can search it again!"

He narrowed his eyes skeptically.

"Bill seemed pretty sure it was safe to come through. Said something about Sirius making a floo call. I can't be certain though, there was an awful lot of shouting going on at the time."

Tonks pursed her lips.

"… fine, I'll go ask Sirius. You stay here. If anyone comes through the floo or knocks at the door, get your arse back to… where the hell were you, anyway?"

"Scotland."

Tonks couldn't hold back a small smile.

"You got your wish."

"Yeah," he said, returning her smile ruefully. "Turns out Ron is a fair hand at camping. Good thing too, I was a lot worse off than I cared to admit. Speaking of which…"

He shifted on his feet, raising one hand to rub the back of his neck.

"I, uh… I can't actually apparate without a wand right now. Can't do much of anything without a wand, to be honest."

At her concerned look, he grimaced.

"Magic always takes a while to come back," he muttered unhappily. "Doesn't help that I keep testing it. Moody knocked me out for a whole week once to make sure I recovered properly. Meddling old bastard."

Tonks's lips twitched.

"You two are adorable."

He narrowed his eyes at her.

" _Adorable?_ "

"Did he really give you this jumper?" she asked, plucking at it.

"Erm… yes. Said he couldn't stand the sight of my old one."

She snorted.

"Your wardrobe _is_ rather tragic."

"Oy!" he protested, laughing. "I'm a professor, not a fashion icon."

"You could be both, you know," she pointed out cheekily. "He said I should take you shopping when this is all over."

"Oh Merlin, you'll have me in flashing neon socks and dungarees before the day's out."

She giggled, then remembered the severity of their situation.

"Stop distracting me!" she protested, still chuckling. "I have to go talk to Sirius, I'll leave my wand here for you."

"Okay, but… wait – "

His hold tightened on her hand as she turned to leave, and he pulled her back into his arms. Ducking his head, he pressed his lips tentatively to hers. She leaned into him, reaching up to caress the thick stubble on his face.

"… mmm, I like it when you're furry," she murmured when they eventually broke apart. He let out a choked laugh and she realized what she had said.

"Not like _that_!" she laughed, hitting him on the shoulder.

"Werewolf fur is quite valuable on the black market, you know," he informed her, lips twitching. "Apparently we're very soft. Not that I'd ever let you close enough to confirm it."

"What if you were on Wolfsbane?"

"You're not getting anywhere near me on the full moon," he said firmly. "Sorry."

"Damn. I bet you're cute."

He let out an odd choking noise.

"That is not the word I would use."

"You just look like a normal wolf, right? 'Cept with a bushier tail?"

"… well, yeah, but – "

"I really wanted a pet wolf when I was younger," Tonks mused. "My mum got me a plushie and I cuddled that thing so much the ears fell off. Think it's still in my flat somewhere, I'll have to find it next time you come over."

He was staring at her again, one corner of his mouth curled into a disbelieving smile. She blushed under his gaze.

"What?"

"… nothing," he laughed, shaking his head at her. "Just… looking at you."

Shuffling awkwardly, she morphed her nose into a pig snout and back again. He rolled his eyes.

"You could change every single bit of your body and I would still know it was you," he said softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Though I must admit, I like this form the best."

She blinked, then looked down at her rather unremarkable body. Her long, straight hair was brown, and she knew that her eyes were, too.

"… this is my natural form," she finally said, looking up at him uncertainly. He smiled.

"I know."

He bent his head again and captured her lips. The kiss was heated this time, and when he eventually pulled away it took a moment for Tonks to catch her breath.

"… you've been working on that line for a while, haven't you?"

His lips quirked into a mischievous smile.

"Spent half the night rehearsing it in my head."

"I thought so. Didn't know you were such a smooth operator."

"There are clearly a lot of things you don't know about me."

She shot him a pointed look.

"It's not from lack of _trying_ , Mr. Silent and Mysterious."

His deep chuckle reverberated through her body from where she was pressed against his chest.

"Make you a deal. If it's safe for me stay here, I'll answer almost any questions you can think of."

" _Almost?_ "

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"A man's allowed _some_ secrets, isn't he?"

"Depends what they are. You're not hiding a wife and a few mini-Lupins, are you?"

He paled.

" _Mini-Lupins?_ " he repeated, sounding horrified. "Fuck no. This may come as a shock to you, but I don't like children."

"Oh really?" she laughed. "I never would have guessed, you're so good with your students!"

He shot her an unamused glare.

"If you're not going to talk to Sirius, can we sit down again? Actually, _lying_ down would be ace, I'm exhausted…"

Rising onto her tiptoes, she deposited a kiss on his cheek.

"You lie down, I'll be back in a minute. Don't fall asleep though, you need to get out of here if Beast Division arrives!"

"Yeah, yeah…" he grunted as she made for the door. Shutting it behind her, she heard him flop back down on the bed with a sigh.

Descending the first set of stairs and counting four doors down the hall on the left, it wasn't until Tonks was standing in front of her cousin's bedroom that she remembered how drunk he had been last night. It wasn't even nine yet. She'd be lucky if he woke up at all, let alone constructed intelligible sentences. She sighed and raised the latch.

His room was even more of a disaster zone than her flat. Clothing – much of it clearly not his – littered every inch of the wood floor. Tonks's first step into the room resulted in a metallic _clink_ , and she glanced down to find what looked suspiciously like a bridle wrapped around her ankle. She shook it off, then gingerly stepped around it. Her bare foot landed on a pair of leather trousers, and she grimaced. As much grief as she gave Remus on his fashion sense, at least his wardrobe didn't consist almost entirely of leather and mesh.

Unsurprisingly, Sirius Black was lying face down on his bed, fully clothed and snoring. The charm on his jumper was wearing off, and the golden snitches were now flickering weakly in the chaotic gloom. His right cheek was pressed into the maroon bedsheets, and the dark patch under his mouth told Tonks that he was drooling. She bit back a smile. Her cousin had been a mess for as long as she could remember. But he was such a _loveable_ mess.

She padded forward and sank a knee into the mattress beside him. Then she leaned down and gently grabbed his shoulder.

"Sirius… _Sirius_."

There was no warning. One moment he was drooling, the next he was jerking away from her and lashing out with one long arm. His fist was loose with exhaustion, but it still hurt as it smashed into her eye.

" _Fuck_ , Sirius!"

She stumbled away from him, her pride smarting more than her face. He was glaring at her through the gloom, no recognition in his dark brown gaze. Then, slowly, the mist cleared and he blinked at her.

"… Nymphie?"

"Do _not_ call me that," she snapped, rubbing at her eye socket. "What the fuck, mate? No wonder you have so many one-night stands, do you greet them all like that in the morning?"

Realization was dawning, and his mouth opened in mute horror.

"… oh – shit…"

He lurched into a sitting position, casting bleary eyes about the room.

"… where's m' wand…"

"It's here," she said, grabbing it off the bedside table and holding it up. "I don't think I'll give it to you though, you might hex me."

"'m so sorry," he mumbled, blinking miserably up at her. "You just – you startled me – "

"And so you punched me in the face?" she said incredulously. Despite her sore eye, Tonks couldn't help but start to find some humor in the situation. Her lips quirked up in a crooked smile and she began to chuckle. Sirius, on the other hand, looked mortified.

" _Fuck_ ," he breathed, running one hand down his exhausted face. "I'm sorry cuz, I – I usually keep my door locked. Must've forgotten…"

His eyes swept over her features appraisingly and he reached out a hand for his wand.

"Can I at least heal the bruise?"

"It's fine, cuz," Tonks laughed, shaking her head and putting his wand back on the bedside table. "'Sides, I don't think you're sober enough to be doing magic. While I have your attention, though…"

She sat down on the bed and crossed her arms over her chest. It was entirely too cold in this house; Sirius needed to beef up the heating charms.

"Remus got back last night," she said.

"… oh. Okay."

"Apparently Bill said it was safe for him to come here?"

Sirius nodded wearily, still blinking sleep out of his eyes.

"Yeah," he said with a yawn. "Crowther and his Neanderthals came and searched the place yesterday. Turned over everything, it was a giant mess. I made a stink at the Ministry about unfair harassment and managed to get a signed affidavit from Fudge saying he won't issue another warrant for 96 hours."

"That's brilliant! So he's safe here for the next… three days?"

Sirius nodded again, looking entirely unenthused at the prospect. Tonks flung her arms around his neck.

"Thank you," she whispered. He grunted, patting her awkwardly on the back.

"Yeah, yeah. Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Oh, of course. Sorry."

She released him and he shot her a sheepish smile.

"No, _I'm_ sorry," he said, gesturing to her eye. "Old habits die hard."

She didn't know what to say to that. She just quirked her lips at him, then got to her feet. Her toes brushed against fabric and she glanced down to see a pair of remarkably normal-looking jeans on the floor.

"Can I borrow these?" she asked, bending to pick them up. Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"… sure? I don't actually know where they came from."

She shot him a rueful glance.

"You're incorrigible."

He shrugged, humor dancing in his eyes for the first time since he awoke.

"I assume they're for Lupin," he said, gesturing to the jeans. "There's a t-shirt in the top drawer that's perfect for him."

Curious, Tonks wandered over to his dresser and pulled open the drawer in question. Rifling through his few clean shirts, she knew immediately which one he was referring to. She smirked over her shoulder at him.

"He's going to kill us."

"He better not," her cousin snarled. Ignoring this uncharacteristic burst of ill humor, Tonks grabbed the shirt and headed for the door. She pointed at the bridle on the way out.

"What do you even _do_ with that?"

"You don't want to know," he replied with a savage grin. "Unless you're planning to borrow it? Lupin's probably into that sort of thing."

She grabbed a dirty sock off the floor and flung it at him, laughing.

"You're disgusting."

"I know," he chuckled, ducking to avoid the flying sock. "But seriously – be careful, will you? I'm not too chuffed at the idea of you dating him."

His features were suddenly somber, his gaze worried. Tonks rolled her eyes.

"He's _fine_ , Sirius. You're the one who just punched me in the face, he's not the only one with problems around here."

The long-haired man grimaced but didn't seem to have any response to that. Tonks shot him a crooked grin.

"Love you, cuz."

"Yeah, yeah…" he groaned as she closed the door. She heard him flop back into bed with a sigh.

As she climbed the stairs back to her room, Tonks rolled her last words around in her mind. There was something nagging at her, something that she was forgetting. It wasn't until she was standing outside her door that she remembered what it was.

She had told Remus that she loved him last night.

For a moment, she just stared at the wooden door in front of her. The memory was fuzzy, like a half-forgotten dream. But she could still feel his body stiffening beneath her, still feel the way his breath had trembled against her forehead. She wondered if he had ever heard those words directed at him before.

With a deep breath, she pushed the door open and immediately smiled. Despite her warnings, Remus had indeed fallen asleep. He was sprawled on his back, one arm hanging off the bed and his features decidedly less troubled than they had been earlier on the windowsill. The line between his eyebrows had smoothed; his breathing was regular and unhurried. Tonks felt rather privileged. She doubted many people had seen him this unguarded.

She closed the door quietly behind her and threw the borrowed clothes on a chair. For a moment she just stood there, examining him. He was never going to be on the cover of Witch Weekly, but his features were oddly pleasing. He had high, gracile cheekbones and a crooked nose that was ever so slightly too big for his face. His lips – so often pulled into a thin, angry line – were surprisingly full, and Tonks resisted the urge to bend down and taste them. She didn't want a repeat of the Sirius incident.

She considered lying down next to him. But her head was beginning to hurt again and even as she stood there her stomach rumbled audibly, reminding her that she had emptied it onto the floor quite recently. Poor Remus. If that hadn't scared him off, he must genuinely love her.

Tonks crept back to the door and opened it quietly, shooting one last fond glance at the slumbering werewolf. Then she stepped back into the hallway and began her descent to the first floor. There was another Hangover Easy with her name on it, and perhaps one of Lily's famous mince pies…

The rest of the house was deserted, its occupants still sleeping off last night's festivities. Tonks hissed as her bare feet met the cold flagstones of the dimly-lit kitchen. She really should have put on some slippers. Tip-toeing over to the sink, she pulled open the cupboard and grabbed another potion. Downing it with a grimace and a muffled noise of disgust, she threw the empty vial into the recycling bin under the sink and turned to the pantry. A quick perusal of the shelves rewarded her with several mince pies, and she was about to retreat back upstairs with her loot when a sharp tap at the window nearly sent her leaping out of her skin.

A small brown owl was sitting on the snowy windowsill, looking supremely unamused. It had clearly been there for some time – snowflakes were beginning to accumulate on its head and on the rolled-up newspaper it held in its talons. Tonks hurried to open the window and the owl flew inside, depositing its papery burden with a dirty look that only deepened when the disheveled Auror could find no change with which to pay. Flinging open every drawer in the kitchen, Tonks finally scrounged up enough knuts to satisfy the bird and it left with a disgruntled hoot, snatching one of the mince pies out of her hand as it went. Letting out an exhausted sigh, Tonks shut the window against the cold draft. Then she grabbed the newspaper and wiped the snow off before it could melt. Sirius was weird about the Daily Prophet. He read it cover to cover, every day, no exceptions. He wouldn't be happy if it was soggy.

White snow brushed aside to reveal sunken eyes and Tonks almost screamed. She dropped the rolled-up paper like it had burned her, and it bounced off the table and fell to the floor. For a moment she just stared down at it, heart racing. What the _hell?_

Steeling herself, she bent down and picked it up. A single tug at the knotted string that held it together and the newspaper unrolled itself, lying flat on the battered wooden table. Tonks suddenly found herself fighting back nausea yet again.

A frightening young man blinked out at her in black and white, his scarred face covering half the front page. His sunken eyes were eerily blank, his hair long and tangled. Dried blood crusted his left temple and his skin was pulled tight across the angular bones of his face, making him look more like a skull than a living man. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and the top of a Reaper tattoo stood out horribly on his skeletal torso. Looking at this terrifying specimen, Tonks had to admit that – despite his often unkempt and haggard appearance – the years after the War had actually been kind to Remus.

Above the photograph, the words _MANHUNT CONTINUES OVER THE HOLIDAYS_ pulsated in angry black letters. A sick feeling settled in Tonks's stomach, and her eyes were drawn inevitably to Rita Skeeter's latest masterpiece.

_As Christmas dawns, it is this reporter's solemn duty to inform the public that the Reaper, Remus Lupin, is still very much at large. Every member of the Werewolf Capture Unit and much of the Auror force is working through the holidays to bring this coldblooded murderer to justice. Until he is captured, however, Minister Fudge urges everyone to remain in their homes, far away from public spaces._

_"We believe the effort of pulling down the Atrium ceiling magically exhausted him," Fudge says, when asked why no further attacks have occurred since the horrific incident at the Ministry that killed five people. "He's likely holed up somewhere, waiting for his strength to return. When it does…"_

_"He's been waiting a long time for an opportunity like this," says Abraham Crowther, newly-appointed Head of Beast Division. "He was working on a report about the Muggle Crossrail construction, he knew every detail of their work. He probably knew just how to weaken the ceiling to make it look like an accident. Putting himself underneath it, casting the Dark Mark just before it fell to scare everyone away… it's brilliant really. He wanted to terrorize us and get away with it. But we weren't fooled."_

_For seven years, this devious, violent man has been allowed to teach our children at Hogwarts. His appointment to the Defence Against the Dark Arts position was met with staunch resistance from this newspaper and every department of the Ministry. Albus Dumbledore – clearly blinded by his strange fascination with the werewolf turncoat – ignored all protests and exercised his right of veto with the Board of Governors, pushing through Lupin's appointment despite all warnings. Rumours have already reached this reporter's ears that the famously eccentric Dumbledore was asked to take retirement yesterday._

_"He's been hoodwinked," Crowther says. "A lot of people have. Lupin is a textbook sociopath; he can make you believe anything. He can make you pity him. He can make you love him. Why do you think he survived the War? It's not improbable that he's hiding out with some respectable wizard family right now – people who truly believe that he's innocent. If that's the case, then I beg them to reexamine the facts."_

_The facts – for those of you who have not read Lupin's public file – are these:_

_Born in June of 1965 to two half-blood werewolves, Lupin spent his formative years roaming the Scottish Highlands with his pack, the Lothians. At his trial in 1982, he confessed to infecting upwards of a hundred people during his tenure in the pack and claimed to have taken part in several infamous raids on wizarding towns throughout Europe. The bloodiest of these is no doubt the attack on La Malène, where nearly three hundred Veelas were executed when they refused to join Tom Riddle's growing army. When asked about his involvement in the massacre, Lupin simply replied, "I helped."_

_Lupin joined the Reapers at eleven and immediately gained a reputation for brutality. The Prewett twins, Emmeline Vance, Dedalus Diggle, and Benjy Fenwick are counted amongst his earliest victims. Even after he began sending messages to Dumbledore, he continued to wreak death and destruction on Riddle's behalf. He tortured the entire Mackinnon family, leaving several of them permanently maimed. He eviscerated Peter Pettigrew in a filthy London alleyway, not long after the brave young man joined Riddle's ranks as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. And not even a week before the War ended, he helped Dolohov and Greyback torture and murder Edgar and Felicity Bones in their own home, leaving their newborn daughter an orphan._

_"The man's a coldblooded killer," Crowther states. "Say what you like about the information he provided us during the War; it doesn't even begin to absolve him of his crimes."_

_The records of some of these crimes are still redacted from public view. Many of the actions undertaken by the Ministry and the Order during the War will remain classified until the thirtieth anniversary of Riddle's defeat, in an effort to protect our veterans from members of his army that are still at large. Last night, however, Minister Fudge determined that one fact, at least, must be made perfectly clear._

_"Remus Lupin fought for He Who Must Not Be Named at the Battle of Tantallon Castle," Fudge says. "In the last battle of the War, he chose to fight against the Ministry. He killed six of our people. The Wizengamot withheld this information from his public record, but I believe the wizarding world deserves to know just who this man is."_

_"He is extremely intelligent and enormously powerful," Crowther states. "We are doing everything in our power to neutralize the threat but in the meantime, please steer clear of public spaces. If you see something, say something. We all need to work together to protect our families and our communities."_

_Anyone with information regarding Lupin's whereabouts should either make a floo call to Beast Division reception, or send a Patronus to the WCU's Chief Communications Officer, Rebecca Goldstein. Informants and their loved ones will be placed under Auror protection until Lupin is in Azkaban._

By the time Tonks finished the article, she was hunched in a chair at the head of the table, clutching the edges of the paper so tightly her knuckles were white. A quick scan of the following pages revealed an article detailing plans for the Atrium rebuild, and yet another memorial for the five people killed in the collapse. She averted her eyes from the photographs. Maisie Peterson had been a year ahead of her in Hufflepuff. Twenty-four was far too young to die, especially when it was so pointless.

Tonks drew in a shaking breath, then let it out steadily. Most of this article wasn't news to her. But the last bit… Clenching her teeth, she got to her feet. She needed answers, and there was only one person who could give them to her.

She didn't bother keeping quiet when she opened her bedroom door this time. The abrupt turn of the latch and the creak of wood had Remus jerking upright, blinking sleep out of his wary golden eyes. His gaze fell on the woman standing in the doorway and his brow furrowed.

"… hey," he rasped, rubbing a hand over his haggard face. "Sorry, I… I fell aslee – "

The newspaper hit the bed next to him with a loud _thwack_ , abruptly silencing his words. For a moment, he just stared at his teenage self. Then he looked back up at her, expression unreadable.

"Let me guess – Rita's been singing my praises yet again."

Tonks slammed the door shut, mouth set in a firm line. Remus blinked, opened his mouth, hesitated, then finally spoke.

"… you're angry with me."

"Not with you."

She pointed one trembling finger at the newspaper. He glanced down at it again, then back up at her, confusion evident on his face.

"Dora, it's just Skeeter running her mouth off again. Please don't let it bother you, it happens all the time."

"But they're _lying_ about you! They're trying to turn everyone against you!"

His lips quirked into an incredulous smile.

"They don't need to lie about me to do that."

She shook her head, forcing down the lump in her throat.

"Just read it, will you?" she whispered, gesturing at the newspaper. Remus hesitated, his concerned eyes fixed on her. He looked so different – so entirely different – from the Reaper who stared blankly out of the front page beside him, and Tonks couldn't stand to look at both of them. She turned away abruptly, stalking over to the window and glaring out at the falling snow, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Behind her, the soft rasp of paper on fabric told her that Remus was pulling the newspaper closer.

The minutes ticked by in tense silence and she began to fidget. Turning around, she saw the man in his typical reading posture – one hand bunched tightly in his messy hair, the other slowly underlining his position in the text. His jaw was clenched, his brows jammed together in fierce concentration. Tonks barely suppressed an impatient sigh. Sensing her anxiety, Remus shot her an annoyed glance.

"Dora, you know I'm rubbish at this," he said, gesturing at the paper. "Why d'you think I use dictation spells all the time? You hovering over me isn't making it any better, what in Merlin's name is going on?"

"They're saying you fought for Voldemort in the final battle."

Remus stared at her, his eyes suddenly guarded. Tonks clenched her fists inside the sleeves of his jumper, her heart speeding up.

"They're saying you killed six people."

A muscle twitched in his jaw and he looked away.

"I know they want to catch you," she continued, "but this is low, even for them. We can't let them get away with this, surely we can – we can sue for libel, or – "

"Dora."

Remus's firm voice cut her off. His eyes were now fixed on hers, filled with grim resolution.

"It's not libel if it's the truth."

Tonks held his gaze, oddly relieved. He raised an eyebrow.

"… you didn't actually think they were lying, did you."

She clenched her jaw, then shook her head.

"No. But I don't want to hear it from the Daily Prophet. I want to hear it from _you_."

"Well, now you have."

He stood and walked around the end of the bed, stopping several metres away from her and sticking his hands in his pockets. He looked remarkably calm, considering the subject matter. He met her gaze firmly.

"I didn't fight for Riddle," he said. "I fought for my friends. But it equates to the same thing."

"What happened?"

He shrugged.

"The packs came. I tried to convince them to stay away, but they were loyal to the end. And I tried to convince the Order to use aconite instead of silver, but… it wasn't their call. So when the packs tried to break the siege lines, they were…"

A muscle twitched in his jaw and his eyes went oddly blank.

"… unsuccessful," he finished.

He crossed his arms, gaze settling somewhere over Tonk's right shoulder. There were echoes of the frightening boy he used to be in his features now.

"I wasn't supposed to be there," he said. "I was supposed to take a portkey out before the battle started, but I didn't know how to activate the bloody thing. I could pull a bridge into the Thames, but I couldn't do something my third-years can do in their sleep. Reg and Sev had always been around to do it for me, but Reg was dead and Sev barely escaped after Riddle found him out. I was stranded and alone and…"

He let out a huff of mirthless laughter, shaking his head.

"I was so fucking scared I couldn't see straight," he said, turning to look at her with a strangely manic smile. "And then Vlad was there, and – and it was like nothing had changed. He was… _safe_. He was my friend, he was the only thing I had to hold on to. We stood on the ramparts, watching our friends die at the hands of those Beast Division _bastards_ and – "

He cut himself off, eyes wide and unseeing as he took deep, steadying breaths through his nose. Tonks finally cracked.

"You were tired of sitting there, letting people die because you couldn't blow your cover," she said quietly. They were his own words, spoken only a week ago in her flat. It felt like an eon had passed since that night.

"… yes," he whispered, still not looking at her. She stepped forward, reaching out one tentative hand to grasp his tense forearm. He flinched, then looked down at it, as though he couldn't quite believe that she was touching him.

"Yesterday, Crowther said that you played both sides during the War," she informed him. "He implied that you were only looking out for yourself. But that's not it at all, is it?"

He looked up, searching her features for… something.

"Everyone talks about that War like it was simple," he said, furrowing his brow. "Like some sort of Muggle film, with good and evil and nothing in between. But the packs were full of people just like Lydia Ballantine. They didn't think they had a choice. And they were slaughtered like animals. There was no… _glorious victory_ at the Battle of Tantallon Castle. Just a load of pain and suffering. Only good thing that came out of it was Riddle's death, but that won't mean much if people like Crowther keep gaining power, and sycophants like Fudge let them do whatever they want."

"You sound like Kingsley."

"Eh?"

"He wonders sometimes whether we actually won that War."

"We did. But Fudge and Crowther are lining us up for another one, and this time I know exactly which side I'll be on."

A lump rose in Tonks's throat and she blinked up at the man.

"Another one? What d'you mean? Against werewolves?"

"Werewolves, vampires, centaurs, you name it. Take the word 'Mudblood' out of Tom Riddle's rhetoric and substitute 'Dark Creature' and you have Beast Division policy for the last two centuries. We didn't fight for Riddle because we agreed with his principles, we fought for him because he promised us freedom."

For more than a minute, the werewolf and the metamorphmagus just stared at each other. Then Tonks drew in a long breath, hesitated, and spoke.

"… why on earth did you help us? And please don't tell me the chocolate frog story again, that cannot be the whole reason."

He examined her carefully, eyes guarded. Then his throat bobbed.

"My mum and dad didn't raise me to be a murderer."

It was a simple sentence, yet the words seemed to vibrate in the air between them. Tonks's breath caught in her throat and Remus shifted uncomfortably, eyes flickering to the floor.

"… I became one anyway, but… I was trying to make amends. I'd grown up enough to realize that… that one individual doesn't represent an entire group."

"One individual meaning Crowther?"

He looked up at her from under his brows, his only acknowledgement of her question a slight tightening in his jaw.

"I didn't like the way Riddle did things," he continued, voice grim. "I was willing to give the Ministry and the Order a second chance."

"And we let you down."

He blinked and furrowed his brow.

" _You_ didn't. Maybe other people did, but not you."

She clenched her jaw and tightened her hold on his forearm.

"How do we keep this… this other war from happening? How do we stop it?"

He grimaced, arms still tightly crossed.

"First step would be getting all the children out of Lunar District and into Hogwarts, where they can get a real education. You think _I_ read slowly – bet you anything Lydia couldn't read at all."

Tonks flinched violently and took an instinctive step back, her hand dropping from Remus's arm. He winced and reached for her, then seemed to think better of it, sticking his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't talk about her like that."

Tonks was staring fiercely at the stained Gryffindor lion on the front of his jumper, forcing herself to take slow, steady breaths. Her fists were clenched, and no amount of effort would loosen them. It hurt to hear the girl referenced in the past tense. She suspected it always would.

"I wish I could tell you it gets better," Remus said quietly, shrugging his shoulders, "but… it doesn't. You just get used to it."

She blinked rapidly, jaw tightening as she raised her eyes back to his.

"I don't want to get used to it. I deserve to feel like shit after what I did."

To her surprise, he chuckled.

"That's what I mean, Dora. You get used to feeling like shit."

She stared at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, she stepped forward and ran her fingers down the inside of his right forearm, pulling his hand out of his pocket. She wrapped it in both of hers, then pressed a lingering kiss to his knuckles, eyes shut tightly against the ever-present tears. When she finally opened them again, he was gaping down at her, confusion and pain warring across his features.

"Dora…" he croaked, and his throat bobbed before he continued. "I… I killed six Beast Division officers in that battle. I only survived because James finally knocked me out and dragged me away from their lines. Dumbledore claimed it was a psychotic episode brought on by extreme stress. He demanded it be removed from my record."

His eyes – resigned and weary – didn't leave hers for a second.

"But it wasn't a psychotic episode. You need to know that."

She couldn't think of a single thing to say. He slowly extricated his fingers from hers, taking several steps back. Then he crossed his arms over his chest again and looked away, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet.

"Sometimes I truly regret betraying him," he said softly, eyes fixed on the floor. "There are days I can't look at myself in the mirror because I'm too ashamed of what I did. I tried to kill myself three times after I was pardoned, and each time Sev was there with his damned monitoring charm. Pretty sure he still gets an alert if I pick up a gun."

He let out a huff of mirthless laughter, shook his head, then threw his hands out to the sides helplessly. His hardening gaze returned to hers, lips pulling into a thin, resolute line.

"Dora, you don't want _me_. I'm a fucking train wreck. Even if, by some miracle, they realize I didn't bring down that bloody ceiling, being with me would ruin your life."

Tonks shook her head, mouth moving soundlessly as she struggled to come up with something useful to say. But he was already running both hands through his hair, turning away from her with his eyes closed.

"… what the fuck was I thinking?"

He stood there for a single, tense moment, palms covering his eyes. Then he was stalking back to the bed, grabbing his boots off the floor as he went. Tonks blinked.

"Wait… w – what? Where are you going?"

"Back to Scotland," he growled, sitting down and pulling one boot on.

"But – _why?_ You can stay here!"

"No, I can't."

She started forward, reaching out to grasp his wrist as he pulled on his second boot.

"Being with you would _not_ ruin my life!"

He shook her off and continued to tie up his laces.

"Yes, it would," he hissed through his teeth. "I can't do this."

He stood up and made for the door, avoiding her gaze. Tonks practically leapt across the room, wedging herself between the werewolf and his escape.

"Wait wait wait, just _hold on!_ " she cried, bracing one hand on his chest. "It's not safe for you out there, the whole bloody world is looking for you!"

"I can't hide here for the rest of my life!"

"I'm not asking you to, I'm asking for three days," she retorted. "Sirius complained to Fudge yesterday and got his word that he wouldn't issue another warrant for 96 hours."

"His word means fuck all. 'Sides, I need to get out of here."

" _Why?_ " Tonks demanded, anger lending a hard edge to her voice. "Why are you running away from me?"

"I'm not running away!" he snarled. "I'm trying to protect you!"

Tonks grabbed the werewolf's wrists as he reached for her, bracing her legs and resisting his attempts to push her out of the way.

"I don't need your _protection_ ," she snapped, "I need your _trust!_ "

Remus was gaining the upper hand. Grabbing her waist, he physically lifted her away from the door. As he returned her feet to the floor, he shot her an apologetic glance.

"I'm sorry, I wish things could be – "

_SLAM!_

He was halfway out the door when it slammed in his face. He blinked at it, then looked at Tonks. Her hands were outstretched, her eyes wide.

"… did you just…?"

He tried the latch. It wouldn't budge. He turned to the young Auror, exasperation clear in his features.

"You chose a hell of a time to get good at wandless magic."

She glared at him, nostrils flared.

"I'll bring the whole bloody house down before I let you leave like that."

"Dora, listen – "

"No, _you_ listen!" she shouted. The words echoed through the musty room. Remus stared at her in shock, his mouth open but silent. Tonks's throat was closing up, and she blinked furiously.

"I know I'm younger than you are," she hissed. "I know you think I'm – I'm naïve and I know my Patronus is a fucking bunny rabbit, but I am _not a child!_ Stop treating me like one!"

His brow furrowed.

"I didn't mean – "

"Did you really think I was going to hate you because you fought to protect your friends?" she demanded, poking him forcefully in the chest. "Beast Division should have been using aconite! You had every right to be upset!"

"We were all on Howlite," he retorted, shaking his head, "using anything but silver would have put their people in danger. There's no excuse for what I – "

"Is there anything you _don't_ feel guilty about?"

The question startled him and he blinked.

"… erm – "

"For fuck's sake," Tonks said, throwing her hands out in exasperation, "I think you'd beat yourself up about this even if you _had_ taken the portkey out before the battle started. You'd have heard what happened to the packs, and somehow managed to blame yourself. Like you do for _everything_."

Remus was well and truly speechless. His mouth moved, but no words came out. Tonks crossed her arms and glared at him, the lump in her throat refusing to budge.

"You were barely seventeen. You were caught up in things you couldn't even begin to control. Please stop being so cruel to yourself, it hurts to watch. It really does."

She couldn't hold his gaze anymore so she looked down at the floor, tears pressing at the corners of her eyes and at the back of her throat. They stood there for over a minute, the only sound the soft sighing of the wind against the window. Finally, Tonks sniffed.

"You know," she said quietly, prodding a loose floorboard with her toe, "my mum hides the only picture she has of her sisters in a sock drawer. She was ashamed of them, she _hated_ them – but they were still her family. I'm probably going to have nightmares for the rest of my life about a teenage girl I didn't even know. My own cousin punched me in the face just a few minutes ago when I tried to wake him up. We all have problems, Remus. You don't have to be alone."

When she looked up, the werewolf's features were clouded with anger.

" _Black_ did that to you?" he growled, gesturing to her eye. Tonks sighed deeply. Of course that's what he would focus on.

"Did you hear what I just said?"

He let out an exasperated huff.

"… yes…" he muttered, running one hand through his hair. Tonks clenched her fists inside the sleeves of his tattered jumper.

"If you really want to leave, then fine. But don't you dare run away because you're afraid of what I told you last night."

He froze. His gaze returned to hers, eyes suddenly guarded, hand still bunched in his messy hair. He tried to speak, but nothing came out of his mouth. Finally, he dropped his hand and cleared his throat.

"… you – you remember that?"

She glared at him.

"I wasn't _that_ far gone."

"Yes, you were."

"Alright," she admitted, rolling her eyes, "I may have blacked out a bit. But I remembered when I was coming back up here from Sirius's room."

"… oh."

He crossed his arms over his chest, jaw clenching as his gaze returned to the floor.

"I meant it, you know."

"You don't have to say that," he snapped forcefully.

"I know I don't," she retorted. "But it's the truth."

His blazing amber eyes were suddenly upon her, something almost like anger in his features. Tonks wondered if he could hear her heart pounding.

"… _why?_ "

She blinked.

"… erm…"

"You could have anyone," he hissed. "Anyone in the world, and you want a fucked up old werewolf who sometimes wishes Voldemort had _won_?"

She surprised them both by chuckling at this.

"You're not that old."

He blinked at her incredulously. Tonks felt an almost hysterical smile spreading across her face.

"You were actually quite a hot topic in the Hufflepuff common room my seventh year," she commented airily. "We couldn't decide who was more attractive – you or Professor Snape."

He made an odd sort of choking noise in the back of his throat.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

Tonks replied with a devilish grin.

"Some friend you are. Snape is very handsome, in his own – "

And then he was kissing her, lips messy and demanding and brutal as he held her face in both hands. He was backing her up against the door, hoisting her off her feet and wrapping her legs around his waist. She responded in kind, fingers carding through his tangled hair and teeth nipping at his bottom lip as he gasped for air. The strangled moan that escaped his throat sent shockwaves through Tonks's body.

"… god, I love you," he growled, trailing his lips down the line of her jaw and nudging his nose into the soft skin under her ear. His hot breath was melting her insides, and it was all she could do to gasp out four coherent words.

"… I love you, too."

He raised his head abruptly, amber eyes wide. For a moment, he just blinked at her. Then his lips quirked up in a small, awestruck smile.

"I think I'm dreaming," he murmured, examining her carefully. "Don't wake me up, okay?"

She let out a breathy laugh, then leaned forward and brushed her lips against his.

"You wanna dream me over to that bed, Romeo?"

He needed no further prompting. One arm anchored her body to him as he turned and strode to the bed. A large hand wrapped around the back of her neck and his lips captured hers again as he lowered her gently onto her back. Then he was settling into her, his weight pinning her to the mattress as his thumb pressed lightly into her throat.

Fear stabbed at her stomach like a hot lance. She choked, and suddenly she was back in Lunar District, Lydia's strong body pinning her to the ground, fingers squeezing the life out of her. She cried out, struggling violently against the hands that held her down.

They were gone in an instant. Tonks blinked and the filthy alleyway was gone. She was sitting up on the bed, chest heaving in hysterical breaths. Remus was standing on the other side of the room, his back up against the wall and his hands held out in front of him. His nostrils were flared, his eyes wide and horrified.

For several long moments they just stared at each other, the only sound her harsh breathing. Then he opened his mouth, hesitated, and spoke.

"… I would _never_ hurt you."

The tears that had been threatening to overflow for some time now finally burst their banks. Tonks felt her throat closing up, blocking all the words she needed to say. She had to settle for a choked sob and a hand reaching desperately towards him. He just stared at it, obviously confused.

"… 's not you," she finally managed to gasp, wiping angrily at the tears dripping off her chin. "You just… you put your hand on my neck and – "

Realization dawned on his face and he drew in a sharp breath.

"Oh, _fuck_ …"

He hurried to the bed, grabbing her hand in both of his and pressing his lips into her palm.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have – "

His words died in his throat as she crawled into his lap. Her knees sank into the mattress on either side of his hips and she buried her face in the crook of his neck, one hand coming to rest on his stubbled cheek as she curled into his chest.

"… I love you, I love you, I love you…"

She was whispering the words against his warm skin, her voice shaking. Hot tears trailed down her nose and onto his neck. He was rubbing her back in soothing circles, strong fingers working their way into knotted muscle.

"I love _you_ ," he murmured, voice much higher than normal. She could feel his heart pounding rapidly.

"No one's ever going to hurt you again."

To her surprise, Tonks let out a watery chuckle.

"… I'm an Auror, love. Getting hurt is practically in the job description."

He grunted unhappily, arms tightening around her.

"Then I'll just be your permanent partner."

"… that mean you're sticking around?"

He paused. His throat bobbed against her nose. Then he drew in a deep breath.

"I'm not going anywhere. For better or worse, you've caught yourself a Reaper."

The words ripped another sob from her throat. Tonks curled her hand around the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair. Then she pressed her lips to the underside of his jaw, breathing in the scent of his skin. He let out a shaky chuckle.

"… sorry I'm a bit smelly," he murmured. "I haven't showered in four days."

Tonks let out a breathy laugh, sniffing and wiping her face on the collar of his jumper.

"You just smell more like _you_. That's a good thing."

"Mmmm…" he replied, clearly unconvinced. They fell into a weary, comfortable silence. For several minutes, Tonks focused on his heartbeat – slowing gradually until it returned to a steady rhythm against her chest. Finally, he coaxed her back far enough so he could peer into her tearstained face. His thumb brushed under her eyes, and he stretched up to press a light kiss to her lips. Then he simply examined her features, amber eyes full of a quiet wonder. Tonks drew in a shaking breath.

"No more suicide attempts, okay?"

He blinked.

"… erm – "

"Suicide is bad for you."

This drew a surprised bark of laughter from him.

"Thank you for that pearl of wisdom."

"I'm serious."

"No, you're not. Think I would be kissing you if you were Sirius?"

Her unamused glare sobered him and he sighed.

"I haven't tried to kill myself in over a decade. Last time was the overdose I told you about. When I woke up, Sev read me the riot act. Said I was being a selfish prick, and if I was really that upset I should try to do something productive, 'stead of just lying about doing drugs and feeling sorry for myself."

"… remind me to get Snape a lifetime's supply of Honeyduke's chocolate."

Remus snorted.

"He's one of those heathens who doesn't like chocolate. I'd say get him gin, but he's trying to stay sober at the moment."

"At the moment?"

The werewolf shot her an oddly sheepish smile.

"The two of us spend entirely too much money on liquor. I'm amazed our livers are still functioning."

"That's rather ironic."

"Why?"

"Kingsley was under the impression that you don't really drink."

"Well, I don't drink around _him_."

"Why not?"

He shrugged.

"It's easier to invade someone's mind when they're intoxicated," he said. "Sev and I got very good at removing alcohol from our drinks using nonverbal spells during the War. 'Spose you could say we've been making up for lost time ever since."

"But Kings isn't going to invade your mind. I don't think he even knows Legilimency."

"It's just a habit at this point. I only drink around people I trust, and even then it makes me a bit punchy."

"But you've been to pubs with me, there were people everywhere."

His lips quirked.

"I was with _you,_ love. You make me feel safe."

Tonks's stomach lurched, and for a moment she just gaped at him. He began to look self-conscious under her gaze.

"… don't tell anyone I said that," he muttered, twisting his fingers in the hem of her jumper. "I've a reputation to uphold, you know. Tough, scary Reaper and all."

She laughed. There was a giddy sensation in the pit of her stomach now, a nervous energy trembling through her veins. Joy felt almost foreign after the events of last night, but it washed over her all the same, momentarily chasing away the shadows she feared would always lurk in the back of her mind. She framed his face with her hands.

"Anyone tries to get in your mind, I'll make them eat slugs for the rest of their life."

His eyebrows raised and his face split into a slow smile.

"Is that a threat? From my entirely too kind and good-natured girlfriend?"

His smile faltered as he realized what he had said. But Tonks just grinned back at him.

"My grumpy boyfriend must be rubbing off on me."

She kissed him, slowly and thoroughly. When they finally parted, Remus nuzzled her nose with his and let out a breathy laugh.

"… I know it's juvenile, but… I really like being your boyfriend."

She smiled against his lips.

"I like being _yours_."

His chest vibrated in a pleased growl and he captured her lips again, tongue sweeping into her mouth as his hands tightened on her hips. His thumbs found their way under her jumper and began to rub small, maddening circles into the skin above her hipbones. Tonks let out a soft moan and shifted closer, tightening her knees around him. One of his calloused hands suddenly swept over her ribcage and up the bare skin of her back, crushing her tightly to him as his mouth left hers. Then his teeth were gripping the delicate line of her jawbone. She gasped and arched into him involuntarily and he let out a throaty chuckle, releasing his possessive grip.

"… sorry," he growled, pressing a soft kiss to where his teeth had surely left a mark.

"… don't be."

His gaze darted up to hers, lust and uncertainty shining in equal parts in his golden eyes.

"Dora… if we go any further, I won't want to stop."

"Neither will I," she whispered, strangely frightened by this admission. "Maybe we should… can we – "

"Slow down?"

She nodded gratefully, brushing her thumb against his temple.

"I want this," she assured him. "I want _you_. But I… it – it's just a lot, you know? I feel like I'm on an emotional fucking rollercoaster here."

He smiled at this but didn't respond. He simply stared up at her. She could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

"What's wrong?"

He blinked.

"… nothing. Just - " he let out a huff of amazed laughter. "I can't believe this is real. I can't believe you actually…"

"… want this?"

He nodded slowly.

"I've never – " he began, then grimaced. Tonks furrowed her brow, suddenly concerned.

"Are you - ? You're not a – "

"I'm not a virgin," he said quickly, looking deeply uncomfortable. "I just… it's never been… _real_. You know?"

"… you mean you paid for – "

"No – no, not like that, I…"

He sighed, glancing up at the ceiling as though begging a higher power for strength. Then he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.

"My, erm… sexual history is… complicated."

She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. His hand was suddenly clammy against the bare skin of her back, and she could feel his heart pounding frantically through both of their jumpers.

"Hey."

Her quiet voice broke the silence and he opened his eyes, staring at her apologetically. She ran her thumb down one of the scars on his left cheek.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?"

His throat bobbed.

"… you shouldn't have to deal with it."

"Does it have something to do with Pettigrew?"

He stiffened, eyes suddenly wary.

"… how – "

"I can connect dots, Remus. He drugged you, didn't he?"

He stared at her mutely for a long moment. Then his gaze flickered, and he nodded. She moved her thumb back to his temple, caressing him softly. He closed his eyes under her ministrations.

"… that's only part of it," he murmured softly. "I'll tell you the rest, but… not right now, okay?"

"Okay," she replied, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands slid around her waist, and for several minutes they just sat there, letting the peaceful silence of Christmas morning settle into them.

Then Tonks's stomach let out a loud howl of protest. The sound filled the room and both the werewolf and the metamorphmagus burst out laughing.

"Didn't know your belly spoke wolf," Remus teased, turning his head to kiss her cheek. She pulled back, smirking.

"What did it say?"

"Something about food, but I couldn't really understand the dialect."

She laughed.

"I was going to eat some of Lily's mince pies while you were sleeping, but that article distracted me."

He winced.

"Yeah, I can imagine. Nobody needs to see my ugly mug first thing in the morning."

"Oh, I dunno," she said, grinning. "I could get used to it. 'Sides, you don't look anything like that scary kid in the photograph anymore."

"Well, that's good. I used to frighten my _self_ when I looked in the mirror."

"Why were you so bloody skinny?"

He shrugged.

"There wasn't much food about by the end of the War, and howlite sort of dulls your appetite anyway."

"So you wouldn't drink, but you still did howlite?"

"Howlite's an upper, not a downer. It actually makes you more alert. To be honest, I wouldn't have survived without it."

Tonks examined him shrewdly.

"You don't do any drugs now, do you?"

"Nope," he said, clearly pleased with himself. "Clean ever since the overdose. Sev throws me a little party every year to celebrate."

She smiled at this, small knot of tension in her stomach loosening.

"He sounds like a good friend. I clearly need to spend more time with him, I always thought he was a miserable git."

"Oh, he is," Remus assured her, laughing. "His idea of a party is showing up at my flat with a bottle of gin in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other and proceeding to wax lyrical about Lily Potter for three hours."

"What?!" Tonks exclaimed, laughing. "Why?"

He rolled his eyes, affection clear in his rueful smile.

"She's the one who got away. You don't happen to know any single, thirty-something women, do you? I've tried to set him up with some Muggle women, but apparently I'm a terrible wingman."

Tonks was now shaking with helpless giggles.

"… oh Merlin," she gasped, clutching her side, "that is a brilliant mental image. Have you really tried to chat up Muggle girls for him?"

"Quite unsuccessfully," he replied, shaking his head. "Only time I actually managed to get him to talk to someone, he made her cry within a minute."

Tonks full on belly laughed, relishing the sight of Remus's eyes crinkling happily at the corners as he grinned up at her.

"Well," she finally said, wiping away tears of mirth, "we can make it our business to find someone for him. Some of my friends really did have crushes on him, d'you think he'd object to dating one of his former students?"

Remus raised a rueful eyebrow.

"We'll have to ask him. I do anticipate him taking the piss out of me for doing that very thing."

Tonks shot him an impish grin.

"It is a bit odd, especially when I think about all the detentions you used to give me."

His eyes widened comically.

"Dora…"

"I think I have a few of my old school uniforms here," she mused, looking over at the dresser. "They might not fit me anymore, but that doesn't really matter – "

He pulled her down for a searing kiss, teeth pulling at her bottom lip. She gasped against him and he let out a strangled chuckle.

"… you're evil."

"I know," she breathed, grinning into his mouth.

"I didn't like you that way when you were at Hogwarts," he said firmly. "I – I thought you were pretty, but…"

"Remus," she said, chuckling, "it's okay. I'm just giving you a hard time. I don't think you're a perv."

He let out a huff of laughter and rolled his eyes.

"Well, thank Merlin for that."

"Speaking of clothes, though…"

She twisted in his lap, deliberately ignoring his involuntary gasp as her hips shifted against his. Screwing up her face in concentration, she let out a triumphant cry when her wandless summoning charm proved effective. The clothes she had borrowed from Sirius sailed across the room and into her hands.

"Here," she said, turning back around and laying them on the bed. "I got these from Sirius, they're clean. Well, relatively. I think the jeans belong to one of his recent conquests."

He eyed the clothing suspiciously.

"Dora, I know I'm skinny, but I don't think I'll fit into women's trousers."

"Who said they belonged to a woman?"

He blinked, then looked up at her.

"Oh. Wow. How did I not know this?"

She grinned and shook her head.

"I don't know. Maybe because you actively avoid him."

"Fair point."

Tonks deposited a chaste kiss on his lips, then clambered awkwardly to her feet.

"The forgotten mince pies are calling to me," she informed him, wandering over to the dresser and pulling out a pair of garish orange socks Molly Weasley had given her three Christmases ago. "And I need coffee. You want some?"

"God, yes."

"You can use my shower if you want," she said, pulling the socks on.

"Thought you liked the way I smell," he reminded her cheekily, grinning at her from the bed. Her lips quirked as she grabbed her wand off the bedside table and headed for the door.

"Just because _I_ do doesn't mean everyone else will. Eau de Wild Man is an acquired taste."

He laughed at this and stood up.

"Very well, I suppose I can clean myself like a civilized human."

He proceeded to pull the filthy jumper over his head. As it fell to the floor, he glanced up to find her eyes running appreciatively up and down his bare torso. He shifted awkwardly under her gaze.

"… 'm sorry about the tat -"

"Don't even start," she interrupted. "I am very much over it. D'you work out?"

The question drew an undignified snort from him.

"No, I just have the metabolism of a fucking teenager. One of the few perks of being a werewolf."

"Hmm. Might want to tell Ron that, make him feel a bit better."

He raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"'Sorry you have to transform into a snarling beast once a month, but at least you don't have to work to get a six pack.' I'm sure he'll find that very comforting."

She rolled her eyes, trying and failing to suppress an amused smile. Then she wandered back to him, raising one hand and looking up at him for permission. He furrowed his brow, floorboards creaking as he shifted his weight uncertainly. Then her fingers were tracing the contours of his chest, palm flattening against raised scar tissue and warm skin. His heartbeat was pounding again, keeping time with hers. When her fingertips found their way to the jet-black serpents running up his sternum, he captured her hand with his and held it tightly.

"… doesn't it – don't they bother you?"

She looked up to find his eyes searching hers desperately.

"They bother _me_ ," he whispered. "How can you touch them?"

"I'm not touching them," she said simply, smiling up at him. "I'm touching _you_."

Raising onto her tip toes, she pressed her lips firmly to his. It took him several moments to respond, but he finally wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her gently. When she pulled back, he stared down at her with something akin to reverence in his gaze. She reached up and brushed unruly hair out of his eyes.

"Take a shower, love," she murmured, smiling. "I'll be back in a minute."


	8. Chapter 8

"… _on the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to meee… five golden snitcheees…_ "

Tonks snorted as the dilapidated radio on the mantle valiantly forced too many syllables through its only functioning speaker. The young Auror was digging about in the cupboards, searching for a bag of coffee that wasn't growing mould.

"Bloody hell, Sirius, when was the last time you cleaned this place?" she muttered, unearthing a half-eaten packet of digestives and grimacing when a few ants crawled out of it. Throwing it in the bin, she continued the hunt for caffeine.

"Merry Christmas, Tonks!"

The reaction was involuntary. Tonks grasped the wand sticking out of the waistband of her pajamas and twisted on her feet, ready for an attack within seconds. Lily Potter blinked impassively at her from the doorway. She took one look at the wand pointed at her face and raised an eyebrow.

"Mad Eye's really got that hammered into you, hasn't he?"

Tonks grimaced and forced herself to relax.

"Sorry," she muttered, lowering her wand. "'s a habit."

"I know," Lily replied, grabbing the teapot from the kitchen table and carrying it to the sink. "You alright? Don't think I've ever seen you with brown hair."

The young Auror tugged self-consciously at the mousey hair that brushed her shoulders.

"Yeah, just… bit tired, that's all. I was on duty in Lunar District last night."

This earned her an alarmed glance and Tonks rapidly changed the subject.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Sirius keeps his coffee, would you?"

Lily flicked her wand and a bag of coffee sailed from the pantry. Tonks caught it with a grateful smile, but the older woman was still examining her shrewdly. Her green eyes darted down to the bruises on Tonks's neck.

"What happened?"

The Auror shrugged.

"Got in a fight."

"Yeah, I can see that. What _happened?_ "

Tonks clenched her jaw and turned her attention to the task at hand. Pouring a generous helping of coffee beans into a giant French press, she ground them with an expert swoop of her wand. An _aguamenti caldo_ followed, filling the French press with steaming hot water. Some household charms eluded her, but she could prepare a good coffee in her sleep.

"Nothing I couldn't handle."

She felt Lily's eyes on her for several long seconds. Then, with a sigh, the woman turned away and filled the teapot with water.

"I trust you've seen a Healer already."

"Yep."

An awkward silence descended, broken only by the radio's drunken warbling. Lily set the pot boiling with a tap of her wand, then dropped in a bag of Yorkshire tea. Tonks poured milk into two mugs, casting about for something to say.

"Sounded like the boys were having fun last night. I got here just in time to hear Harry's soliloquy on the Wronski Feint."

"Oh Merlin. I tried to make them go to bed after the first bottle, but you know how they are."

Tonks shot the older woman a wry grin.

"Sirius took me out for my seventeenth birthday, and I regretted it for a bloody week," she said. "The man can put down his body weight in tequila and still come out on top."

The sigh that left Lily's mouth seemed to deflate her whole body.

"I do wish he'd try and be a better role model. Harry worships the ground he walks on."

"He probably thinks he's a brilliant role model. He may be thirty-eight years old, but his brain stopped maturing at sixteen."

"You're not talking about _me_ , are you?"

James ambled into the kitchen, greying black hair sticking up in every direction, blue eyes bleary and bloodshot. He gave the two women a rueful smile, then shuffled over to his wife and kissed her cheek. She glared at him through narrowed eyes and he laughed.

"What? We weren't _that_ bad, were we?"

"Your son had half a bottle of Firewhiskey all on his own."

James shrugged.

"When I was his age, I could drink a whole one."

"And that makes it better, does it?"

Tonks took this as her cue to retreat. She piled mince pies into a bowl and levitated it. Then she grabbed the coffee and mugs, heading for the door as Lily and James continued to bicker.

"… you two never know when to stop – "

"Oh come on, Lils, it's _Christmas_ – "

"Yes, and Harry's going to be hungover for it!"

"He will not, he has my genes – "

Tonks was almost out the door when Sirius blocked her path, disheveled and a bit smelly. He was still wearing the clothes he'd slept in.

"That for me?" he rasped, a predatory gleam in his grey eyes as he caught sight of the French press in Tonks's hand.

"No," she said shortly. "It's for Remus."

"What are you, his maid?"

"He's not in the mood to deal with people right now," Tonks retorted. "Neither am I, to be honest."

"Remus is here?"

Their conversation had distracted Lily from berating her husband. Both the Potters were now looking over at Tonks.

"Yeah," she replied. "He got back last night."

"Is he alright?"

"More or less. He still can't do wandless magic, but other than that he's fine."

Lily crossed her arms over her chest, green eyes flashing.

"He shouldn't be doing wandless magic at _all_. I was on duty last time he exhausted himself, he was vomiting blood for hours."

Tonks grimaced at the red-haired Healer.

"Yeah, it was a bit messy this time around, too. Sirius, d'you have a spare wand he can borrow?"

"Nope," her disheveled cousin said shortly, snagging a pie out of the floating bowl and plopping himself down at the kitchen table. "He'll just have to go without magic for a few days. What a pity."

Tonks glared at the man and was just opening her mouth to ask what his problem was when the floo burst into flames behind him. They all turned to watch as a familiar boy tumbled into the kitchen. He somersaulted across the flagstones and landed on his feet with practiced ease, face only slightly smudged with soot. Golden eyes darted about the room, finally landing on James.

"Is it true?" Ron demanded. They blinked at him in stunned silence and he shifted impatiently on his feet.

"Is it?!" he almost shouted, golden eyes red-rimmed and exhausted. "Did he really fight for Voldemort?"

Tonks was clearly the only one who had a clue what he was talking about.

"Ron – "

"Don't you start!" he spat, glaring at her. "You think he farts gold dust and nothing's going to convince you otherwise."

Tonks mouthed wordlessly at the boy, swelling with indignant rage. But before she could find her voice again, Sirius was speaking.

"Ron, what in Merlin's name are you on about? And could you lower the volume, please, my head hurts."

The boy glanced around the room and threw his hands out to the sides.

"You haven't read the Prophet?"

"Don't think it's here yet. Happy Christmas, by the way."

Ron just let out a frustrated huff. Tonks cleared her throat.

"Actually, it was delivered earlier."

"Eh?" her cousin said, turning to her. "Where is it, then?"

"She probably burned it," Ron growled. Tonks rolled her eyes.

"I did not. It's upstairs, I wanted to ask Remus about it."

"Well, can I have it back please? I'd like to read it if you don't – "

"Why are you so upset?" Lily interrupted impatiently, looking at Ron. "What does it say?"

The boy's lips tightened.

"It says that Lupin fought for Voldemort in the last battle."

There was a long, painful silence. The three former Order members exchanged dark glances. Tonks sighed deeply and lowered the bowl of mince pies to the table with a soft _thunk_.

"Well?" the boy demanded, glaring at them all. James drew in a sharp breath.

"Ron, you have to understand – "

"Is it true?"

James hesitated; lips pulled into a grim line. Finally, he spoke.

"Yes. It is."

A string of foul language burst forth from Ron's mouth and he turned away from them, running both hands through his messy hair.

"I vouched for him," he snarled. "I spent all last night trying to convince everyone that he's a decent bloke, and now _this?_ "

He laughed mirthlessly, shaking his head. James cleared his throat.

"… he _is_ a decent bloke."

"Oh, yeah," the boy snapped sarcastically. "'Cause there were so many decent people in Voldemort's army."

"You'd be surprised," Sirius grunted before taking a large bite of pie.

"You weren't there," Lily said as Ron turned back to them with fire in his eyes. "You don't know the full story."

"Well, what _is_ the full story? Better be bloody good, 'cause mum's _this close_ to telling Beast Division he's here!"

"She can't!" Tonks cried. "They'll _kill_ him!"

"Sounds like he deserves it!"

"Ron, sit down."

The calm order was only slightly muffled by the pastry Sirius was still chewing. He gestured at the chair opposite him with his half-eaten pie, scattering crumbs across the wooden table.

"Sit _down_ , mate," he repeated, when the boy did nothing but stare mutinously at him. "You're making way too much of this. Just relax, will you?"

" _Relax?!_ " Ron cried. "He's been lying to us for years, and you expect me to _relax_?"

"He hasn't been lying to us," Sirius replied simply. "Everyone who fought in that battle knows what he did. The Wizengamot chose not to make the information public, and I actually think they made the right decision."

"The Prophet said he killed six people."

"And we killed close to six _hundred_. Many of them werewolves his age and younger. The Reapers didn't hold a monopoly on death, Ron."

This finally seemed to make an impact on the boy. He paled.

"… six _hundred_?"

Sirius just stared up at him, gaze grim and unwavering. Ron's throat bobbed and he slowly sat down, exhausted eyes darting from Sirius to James to Lily and back again. Tonks hesitated, then stepped forward and put the coffee and mugs down on the table beside her cousin. As she took a seat, Sirius leaned forward, elbows resting on the table and grey eyes fixed intently on the pale boy across from him.

"Those Ministry-sanctioned history books they give you at Hogwarts are about as nuanced as a raging cave troll," he said, fingers clasped tightly together. "Lupin is far from the only one with blood on his hands. But most people would rather hate him than take responsibility for their own actions."

Ron didn't speak. His amber eyes were fixed, unblinking, on Sirius. The man examined him warily.

"You alright, mate?"

The boy's gaze wavered, and Tonks saw a muscle twitch in his jaw.

"I'm fine," he growled.

"You don't look fine. You look like you haven't slept in a week."

The young werewolf didn't reply. His eyes darted to the door.

"He's upstairs?"

Sirius glanced at Tonks, deferring to her. She nodded curtly.

"He's taking a shower."

"What did he say when you asked him about it?"

Tonks examined the boy for a moment before replying.

"He said he wasn't fighting for Riddle. He was fighting for his friends."

Ron's mouth tightened.

"That's a convenient excuse."

"Really?" James asked, sitting down at the head of the table with a fresh mug of tea in hand. "Riddle's army was decimated by that point, we outnumbered them five to one. Thanks to Remus, we knew the snake was his last Horcrux. The writing was on the wall, and the kid chose _that_ moment to switch sides again? Doesn't sound particularly convenient to me."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that he was a seventeen-year old boy who couldn't stand to watch his friends die, no matter who they were or what they'd done."

There was a brief, thoughtful pause. Lily settled down next to Ron, her own mug of tea in hand.

"Your dad was there, he saw what happened. What did he say about the article?"

Ron shrugged unhappily.

"I dunno, he wasn't up yet. Mum was having kittens, Charlie and Percy were about to call Beast Division. I thought it might be a lie, so I asked them not to do anything until I got back."

His gaze shifted slowly, inevitably, to Tonks. She stared him down, fists clenched under the table.

"He's a good person, Ron. He doesn't deserve to die in Azkaban."

"He could be playing you."

"To what end? Why would he pull down the Atrium ceiling, then scare everyone out from under it?"

"The Magical Accidents squad did a head count after the collapse," James said, his voice solemn. "There were almost two hundred people in the Atrium when the ceiling went. If he hadn't cast the Dark Mark, we'd be digging a hell of a lot more graves right now."

The silence stretched on, broken only by the gurgle of tea filling another mug. Lily offered it to the boy and he hesitated.

"Milk?" she asked kindly. Finally, Ron took the mug from her hand.

"… erm… yes, please."

As Lily summoned the milk carton, Ron shot Tonks an uncomfortable glance. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then spoke.

"… sorry I yelled at you."

"'s alright," she replied, lips quirking. "I'm used to dealing with moody werewolves."

She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. Ron grimaced unhappily and stared down at his tea, shoulders hunched. Tonks scrambled for a change of subject.

"Erm… what did you two get up to in Scotland, anyway?"

He shrugged, not looking at her.

"He slept a lot," he mumbled. "I just looked at the mountains and tried not to freeze to death."

"Sounds… fun."

The boy snorted.

"Oh yeah, loads."

Sirius grabbed the French press and proceeded to pour himself some coffee. Tonks shot him a withering look and he shrugged.

"What? If he wants some, he'll have to come down and get it. Maybe he can _return my NEWSPAPER while he's at it!_ "

This last phrase was aimed at the ceiling, Sirius's voice raised meaningfully. Tonks rolled her eyes.

"He's two floors up, cuz, he can't hear you."

"Yes, he can. Those ears helped win the War, you'd be amazed what he can hear."

Tonks shot a questioning glance at Ron, who grimaced.

"… 's true. He just called Sirius a wanker."

The young Auror blinked. She needed coffee. Admitting defeat, she filled her own mug and took a drink, sighing gratefully as the liquid warmed her still-sore throat.

"How are you feeling, Ron?"

Lily was fixing her son's best friend with a deeply sympathetic gaze that did not go over well.

"I'm _fine_ ," he snapped, knuckles suddenly white around his mug. "I wish people would stop asking me that, it's not like I'm dying."

"I know," Lily said, undeterred, "but you have a right to be upset. You can talk to us, I hope you know that."

"I don't want to _talk_. I just…"

Ron trailed off, blazing amber eyes fixed on the table and lips twisted unhappily.

"… I wish I had a bloody Time Turner," he finally muttered, rubbing one eye socket with his palm.

"Don't we all," Sirius grunted into his coffee. Silence descended, awkward and uncertain. Tonks was about to sally forth with yet another attempt at conversation when a tremendous _CRACK_ echoed through the kitchen, startling them all half to death. A small, unpleasant-looking house elf was suddenly standing at Sirius's elbow, glowering up at him through beady black eyes. He jabbed a folded newspaper under his master's nose.

"The mudblood said to give master this," the elf sneered.

Sirius blinked down at the shabby creature.

"Eh?"

"He also requests that the master sod right off."

"Kreacher, I thought I told you to stay in the attic."

"Kreacher _was_ in the attic. The werewolf found him there."

"What's he doing up there?"

"Kreacher does not know, sir, but mistress would not like having a filthy mudblood stinking up her – "

"Would you _stop_ using that word?!" Lily snapped, bringing her fist down hard on the table. "Honestly, Sirius, you need to give this little prick to the Malfoys or something."

"Can't, he'd love it there," the man replied, eyes still fixed on Kreacher. "Why are you calling him that, anyway? Lupin's half-blood."

The elf wheezed. It was probably supposed to be laughter.

"A liar, then, as well as a freak. Kreacher knows what a mudblood smells – "

"Right, that's it."

Lily rocketed to her feet and started towards the elf. Kreacher took one look at the fire in her emerald eyes and disappeared with another loud _CRACK_. He left silence in his wake, everyone staring at the spot where he'd vanished.

"… I'm confused," Ron finally said. "The article this morning said he was half-blood."

"That's what he told Albus," James said, brow furrowed. "He can't be muggle-born, that doesn't make any sense."

"Kreacher's only good at one thing," Sirius growled darkly, "and that's determining people's blood status."

There was a short silence. Confusion and concern whirled in equal parts through Tonks's mind.

"… why would a Muggle-born fight for Voldemort?"

She didn't realize she had asked the question until it was echoing through the kitchen. Everyone turned to look at her, the same curiosity burning in their eyes. Then Sirius shoved his chair away from the table and stood abruptly.

"Right, I'm going up there," he grunted, then shot Tonks a pointed look. "Care to join me?"

She hesitated, then stood up.

"Let me do the talking, alright? You start prying into this, and he'll probably give you a black eye to match mine."

Her cousin winced but didn't reply. He led the way silently out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Behind them, Tonks heard Ron speak again.

"He does smell a bit different. So do you, Mrs. Potter. I mean… no offense, it – it's not a _bad_ smell, just… different. Obviously I wouldn't have noticed before, but…"

His voice faded away as they reached the top of the stairs. Tonks followed her cousin down the hallway and up the second flight of steps, her mind racing. There was something extremely odd about this.

The door to the attic was down the hall from Tonks's room. It was wide open, and as the two cousins approached, they heard floorboards creaking above them.

"What is he _doing_ up there?" Sirius mumbled under his breath before leading the way up the rickety wooden steps. They emerged into a dusty, poorly-lit room stuffed to the rafters with old furniture, paintings, and Black family heirlooms that Sirius had clearly banished from the rest of the house.

"Don't touch anything," her cousin said ominously over his shoulder. Tonks shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. A cold draught was slithering down the back of her neck.

"Remus?" she called out tentatively. She didn't fancy spending more time up here than she had to. The portrait of her great-aunt Walburga leered out of the gloom between a rusty claw-foot tub and a pile of mouldy curtains, her pale face stuck in a perpetual sneer. It had taken Sirius nearly a decade to pry the wretched painting off the wall in the entrance hallway and silence his mother once and for all.

A clatter sounded from the corner of the room and Tonks let out a sigh of relief when Remus stuck his head out from behind a bookcase. His hair was still damp from the shower, mussed and spikey.

"Sorry," he muttered, shoving something in his pocket before ambling their way. "I was going to come down, but I smelled Regulus up here."

The borrowed jeans looked remarkably good on him, hugging his thin frame more than his usual baggy trousers. The t-shirt Sirius had donated was ridiculous. The head of a huge grey wolf stared out at them, an American flag fluttering patriotically in the background. But neither Tonks nor her cousin were in the mood to laugh at the sight. Sirius cleared his throat.

"… erm… yeah, that's, uh… that's all his stuff."

He gestured unhelpfully towards the corner of the attic Remus had been examining. For a moment, the two men just stared at each other. Remus's golden eyes practically gleamed in the dim light. Then Tonks drew in a sharp breath.

"Right, well. Let's get out of here, shall we? This place gives me the creeps."

She turned for the door and Sirius made to follow her, but the werewolf's hoarse voice stopped them.

"I heard what your house elf said."

They looked back at him. His hands were still shoved deep into his pockets, lips pulled into a thin line.

"He's lying. I'm not Muggle-born."

An awkward silence greeted these words. Then Sirius drew in a deep breath.

"Remus, mate – "

"I'm not your _mate_ ," the werewolf snarled. Tonks blinked, shocked by the vehemence of his reaction. She glanced over to find her cousin's eyes closed, his nostrils flared as he drew in another deep breath. Turning back to Remus, she held her hand out to him.

"Come on, love. We can talk about this downstairs over a coffee."

"Dora, do _not_ patronize me," he snapped, turning blazing eyes on her. She glared back at him.

"I'm not patronizing you," she retorted. "I just don't like it up here, can we please leave?"

"I actually feel right at home," he replied, gesturing around at the dusty remnants of a pure-blood dynasty. "You two go back to your gossiping, I think I'll stay here."

"Why are you being such an arse?" Tonks hissed angrily.

"Because I _am_ an arse," the infuriating man retorted, wandering over to a collection of old wardrobes. Opening one, he reached inside and pulled out a mouldering dress robe that looked about three hundred years old.

"Wow," he muttered, holding the frilly garment up to his own body. "This is quite the fashion statement."

"Lupin," Sirius snapped impatiently, "put that back. There could be anything in those bloody wardrobes, stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

"You scared of some old dress robes, Black?" the werewolf taunted nastily, returning the frilly monstrosity and pulling out a giant hat topped with something that looked alarmingly like a dead hedgehog. He jammed it on his head then looked around the room, crying out with triumph when he spotted a mirror in the corner. He headed towards it, but Tonks blocked his path.

"Remus," she said firmly, "stop."

To her surprise, he did. He looked down at her, an oddly manic glint in his amber eyes. She drew in a deep breath, steeling herself.

"I know you're scared. But you don't have to be."

"I'm not scared," he scoffed. "I just don't feel like playing house with Black and the Potters."

"So you'd rather stay up here and try on Aunt Wallie's old clothes?"

"Yes."

She blinked up at him, struggling for words. The sight before her should have been hilarious. With the wolf shirt on his chest and the hedgehog hat on his head, Remus looked truly absurd. But he was acting like a cornered animal, and experience told her that the anger in his gaze was hiding fear. Tonks's stomach twisted. Something was very wrong.

"Remus, _please_ ," she whispered, searching his face desperately. "Please come downstairs."

For a moment, she thought she had him. His gaze flickered and she saw a glimmer of uncertainty. But then his features hardened again and he let out a bark of mirthless laughter.

"Why? It's Christmas, nobody wants me around. I'll just bring down the mood."

He turned away from her, pulling the hat off his head and throwing it back into the open wardrobe. He closed the door and went to open another. Sirius groaned.

"Oh, come _on_ – "

Remus pulled the wardrobe open, and Abraham Crowther walked out of it.

Tonks cursed and reached for her wand. Sirius stumbled backwards, shocked and pale. But Remus just stood there, his body rigid as the head of Beast Division stalked slowly towards him.

Even as Tonks pulled her wand from the waistband of her pajamas, she noted that there was something decidedly odd about Remus's boggart. In real life, Crowther was a small man. But this version of him towered over the werewolf, his body so broad and hulking that Tonks was amazed he could even fit through the wardrobe door. His hair – normally white and close-cropped – was light brown with grey sprinkled throughout. He looked much younger than the real Abraham Crowther. His pale blue eyes were fixed intently on the frozen man before him, lips pulled into a thin smile.

"Hello, Davie."

Tonks's breath caught. Boggarts couldn't usually speak. The ones that did were very old, and very powerful. Powerful enough to kill if they got too close. The creature took another deliberate step towards the unarmed werewolf, raising a hand that looked big enough to crush his skull.

"Remus, get back!" Tonks cried, but the man didn't move. He just stared as the creature drew closer. Wand in her hand and heart in her throat, Tonks cast the first spell she could think of.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ "

A spectral rabbit burst from the tip of her wand and raced straight at Crowther's broad chest. The boggart halted, brow furrowed in confusion as the small patronus began to herd him back towards the wardrobe. Tonks leapt forward and grabbed Remus's arm.

"Come on!" she hissed, pulling him to safety. He stumbled backward, wild eyes finally finding hers. The terror in his gaze sent chills down her spine and broke her concentration. The blue glow of her patronus faded immediately and Tonks swore.

"Hey ugly!"

Sirius was stepping between them and the boggart, wand raised and shoulders squared. Crowther examined him clinically for a moment. Then, with a soft _pop_ , he was replaced.

A teenage girl was staring blankly at them. She was short and curvy, her light brown skin complementing her eyes in a way that made the gold look natural. As they watched, a trail of blood trickled slowly from the corner of her mouth, over her chin, and down the throat of one of the black serpents tattooed on her chest. Her filthy tank top did nothing to hide the gaping wound in her stomach. Tonks heard Remus gasp beside her, felt his arm tense beneath her fingers.

Sirius didn't even try to destroy the boggart. A silent spell, and his own patronus was driving the young woman backwards. She melted into the dark wardrobe, and Sirius closed the door with a single flick of his wand.

Nobody spoke. The attic was silent apart from their gasping breaths. Barely a minute had passed, yet it felt like an age. Slowly, wearily, Sirius turned around. He raised an unamused eyebrow.

"Can we go now?"

He didn't wait for a response, striding past them and starting down the stairs.

"… she's your boggart?"

The hoarse whisper stopped Sirius in his tracks. The top half of his body was still visible in the stairwell. It took a moment for him to look up. When he did, he fixed Remus with a hard glare.

"He's _yours?_ "

The two men stared at each other. Tonks glanced between them, wishing she could understand this silent conversation. Finally, her cousin shifted on his feet.

"I'm too hungover for this shit," he muttered, turning away. "Stay here if you want, but I need more coffee."

He clattered down the stairs without another word. Tonks hesitated, examining Remus's grim profile. Finally, she drew in a shaking breath.

"Who was that?"

The werewolf was silent for so long that she began to wonder if he had even heard the question. His gaze was fixed, unseeing, on a distant corner of the room.

"Her name was Soha."

The words were abrupt, the tone expressionless.

"… she was a Reaper?"

"Yes. I grew up with her."

"… oh. And, erm… Sirius, he – "

"There any coffee left?"

Remus grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the stairs. His skin was cold and clammy against hers, and Tonks let him run from the conversation. The events and revelations of the last few days, hours, minutes were clearly taking their toll on the normally reserved man. She could almost see his frayed edges unraveling before her. As he led her to the ground floor, she tried desperately to think of something useful or comforting to say – something that wasn't one of the dozens of questions demanding to be answered. _Are you really Muggle-born? Why are you still hiding it? Why is Crowther your boggart? Why was he so enormous? Why did he call you Davie? Did you love Soha? Why did Sirius kill her?_

She suspected such queries would be met with something less than enthusiasm.

Remus was still on edge when they arrived in the entrance hallway. His fingers were almost painfully tight around hers. His determined stride faltered as they approached the kitchen, and he halted completely when a burst of laughter issued from the open door.

"Hey," Tonks whispered, pulling him around to look at her. "D'you want to just go back to my room? I can bring up some food for us."

He clearly wanted to take her up on the offer. But his lips twisted in a grimace and he shook his head.

"No. It… it's Christmas, I don't want to…"

He let out a huff of frustration, trying to find the right words.

"I don't want to ruin things any more than I already have," he finally said, not looking at her. "You should be having fun with your family, not baby-sitting me."

She snorted.

"It's not _baby-sitting_ , Remus. I happen to enjoy your company."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow and opened his mouth, but Ron Weasley chose that moment to stick his head out the kitchen door.

"Get in here, will you? We need to talk."

Remus turned slowly to the boy, eyebrow still arched.

"About what, pray tell?"

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe the fact that you fought for Voldemort in the last battle, and now my entire family wants to turn you in to the Ministry?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Your father was _there_. He saw what happened!"

"I know, mate," Ron said quietly. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, examining his former professor with a weary maturity that looked strange on his young face.

"It's not my dad you need to convince."

Remus sighed deeply, his entire body deflating as he rubbed at his eyes with his palms.

"I will not waste my breath trying to convince your mother that I'm worth a damn. You shouldn't either."

"Not even if your life is on the line?"

"Why do _you_ care?"

"I don't know."

The blunt answer seemed to surprise Remus. He blinked at the boy, dropping his hands back to his sides. He seemed at a loss for words, and Ron seized the opportunity to take the piss.

"Nice shirt, by the way."

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a rueful smile, amber eyes examining the giant wolf and the American flag adorning Remus's chest. The older werewolf glanced down and – to Tonks's utter shock – his face split into a wide, unabashed grin.

"Ah, thanks mate," he said, stretching the bottom of the t-shirt out a bit so he could see it better. "Dora gave it to me, it's bloody brilliant."

She couldn't hold back a bark of incredulous laughter.

"You _like_ it?!"

"'Course I do!" he protested, turning to her. "It's my new favorite shirt!"

Smiling felt strange after what happened in the attic but she did it all the same, shaking her head at the man.

" _You're_ my new favorite _human_ ," she said simply, stretching up to kiss him. He slung an arm around her waist and grinned into her lips, lingering perhaps a moment longer than was appropriate considering they had an audience.

"Not strictly human," he corrected good-naturedly when they parted, "but near enough."

Tonks caught a glimpse of a very red Ronald Weasley out of the corner of her eye and laughed.

"Sorry, Ron. Didn't mean to traumatize you."

"'s alright," the boy muttered, turning to go back into the kitchen. "You two are tame compared to Bill and Fleur."

Tonks took hold of Remus's hand and led him through the door. He followed her willingly, though his skin was still uncharacteristically clammy. As they entered, James and Lily looked up from the kitchen table. Sirius was standing by the sink, glowering into a refilled mug of coffee.

"Remus!" Lily said, rising to her feet and stepping around the table. "Happy Christmas!"

"… thanks," the werewolf replied, sounding confused. Tonks shot him a meaningful glance over her shoulder as she poured him some coffee and he blinked.

"Erm… you too."

If the red-haired Healer found his awkward attempt at normality amusing, she didn't show it. She just smiled as she approached him, pulling her wand out of her pocket.

"Has anyone looked you over?"

Remus took a wary step back.

"I'm fine."

"You are not," Lily said firmly, flicking her wand in a complicated pattern in front of him. "You're anemic, your blood pressure is alarmingly low, and you haven't eaten anything in…" her brow furrowed in concern, "… _three days_."

"I caught a rabbit in Scotland," Ron said as he grabbed a mince pie out of the bowl on the table, "but he didn't want any of it."

"He doesn't eat meat," Tonks remarked as she handed Remus his coffee. At the man's surprised glance, she raised an eyebrow.

"You really think I hadn't noticed?"

"James, can you make some beans on toast?" Lily asked over her shoulder.

"He thinks beans on toast is the work of the devil," Tonks informed them all. Remus let out an embarrassed huff of laughter.

"Dora – "

"It _is_ the work of the devil," James agreed, grinning. "See, love? I'm not the only one."

Lily rolled her eyes and suppressed a smile, still completely focused on the complicated motions of her wand in front of the ex-Reaper's chest.

"Some eggs, then?"

Remus hesitated, and the woman narrowed her eyes at him.

"You have to eat _something_. I know exhaustion takes away your appetite, but you're only making things worse."

"Eggs are fine," the werewolf muttered, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. He took a sip of coffee and closed his eyes in silent appreciation. Meanwhile, James wandered over to the pantry and grabbed a cast iron skillet.

"What was going on up there, anyway?" Ron asked around a mouthful of pie. "I heard shouting."

Sirius and Tonks exchanged a dark glance. Remus kept his eyes closed.

"Just a boggart," Sirius said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I really need to clear out all that stuff. You lot want to have a bonfire this summer?"

"Burning the Black family heirlooms sounds like a dangerous undertaking," Lily said absently, sticking her wand back in her pocket and reaching towards Remus's neck with both hands. His eyes snapped open and he darted away from her, coffee sloshing over the sides of his mug and trickling down his tattooed forearm.

"What're you doing?"

"I need to feel your glands."

"My _glands_ are fine," he snarled.

"Remus," the woman growled, hands now on her hips, "I'm not going to hurt you. My diagnostic spell showed a mild chest infection. If your glands are swollen, I'll have to go to St. Mungo's and get you some potions."

"I'm _fine_."

"You keep using that word. I don't think it means what you think it means."

"Inconceivable," Remus muttered, hiding his face behind his mug. Tonks let out a surprised bark of laughter and Lily's lips quirked.

"Your knowledge of Muggle pop culture makes a lot more sense now."

The werewolf froze. Tonks shot the older woman a warning look, but Lily ignored her.

"You going to let me touch you, or not?"

She stepped forward again, hands outstretched. Again, Remus evaded her. He was staring at the floor, shoulders tense.

" _I'm not Muggle-born_ ," he hissed, putting his cup down on the table with a resounding _thud_. The temperature in the room dropped several degrees, and Lily crossed her arms.

"Something wrong with being Muggle-born?"

"No," he snapped, glaring at her from under his brows. "But I'm half-blood. The house-elf got it wrong."

"Kreacher doesn't get that sort of thing wrong," Sirius said quietly from his side of the room.

"Leave him alone, will you?"

Everyone turned surprised eyes to the boy sitting at the table. Ron was looking at Remus, his nostrils flared. The older werewolf shifted under his gaze.

"It doesn't matter," Ron said quietly. "Just leave him alone."

There was a long, tense moment. Then Lily backed down.

"Fine," she said, stepping around the table and returning to her seat. "Just… let me know if that chest infection gets worse, alright?"

Remus didn't reply. He was still staring at the red-haired boy, expression unreadable. The hiss of an egg hitting a hot pan broke the silence.

"How d'you like your eggs, mate?" James called over his shoulder. "Sunny-side up?"

Remus blinked and looked over at the man.

"Erm… I dunno."

"Helpful. Sirius, make some toast, will you? A lot of it, I'm making eggs for everyone."

His best friend grudgingly obliged, expression dark as he pulled a loaf of bread out of a cupboard. Tonks returned to her seat across from Ron. A moment later, Remus joined her.

"Did you get any sleep last night?"

He was examining the younger werewolf carefully. The blatant concern in his eyes and voice surprised Tonks. Ron, too, looked baffled.

"… erm… not really. Mum was in a right state."

Remus grimaced, pulling the mug of coffee back into his hands.

"Sorry about that."

"'s not your fault."

The older werewolf snorted incredulously.

"Yes, it is."

Ron searched Remus's features for a long moment. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then spoke.

"Are they going to put me in Lunar District?"

The ex-Reaper looked shocked at the suggestion.

"What? No!"

"I don't have a job – "

"Ron," the older werewolf said, laughing despite the serious topic, "did you really think we'd let that happen?"

The boy shrugged miserably and Remus shook his head.

"Dumbledore will vouch for you, just like he did for me. Then we'll see about getting you into the Auror program. You haven't finished your NEWTs, but I'm sure Moody will make an exception for you. We just have to convince Crowther you're not a threat to the public. It'll be easier if I'm not involved, to be honest…"

He trailed off, absently pulling at his bottom lip with his fingers as he contemplated something. He missed the wide-eyed stare of the boy sitting across from him.

"… I can still be an Auror?"

Remus blinked.

"'Course you can. You have almost all the qualifications, and none of the, uh… antisocial problems that keep most other werewolves unemployed. And if your midterms are anything to go by – "

"Wait," Tonks said, confused, "if it's really as easy as getting a job, why can't we just… I dunno, start a cauldron factory and employ all the people in Lunar District?"

"It's not that simple, Dora," Remus said grimly. "Your employer has to prove they can provide Wolfsbane for you. The ingredients are quite expensive, which means that it's just not worth it to most businesses. Werewolves have a decent shot at getting hired as bodyguards or bouncers, but unless you can prove that you're worth the added cost, or that you can pay for it on your own, then you don't have a chance in hell of getting out of Lunar District."

"So… the Ministry will pay for my Wolfsbane?" Ron asked.

"Yes. I'm quite a valuable asset for them, I take care of the ferals and upstart packs who come over from the mainland. With a bit more training, you'll be able to help me."

Remus's gaze flickered and he shifted in his seat.

"If you want to, that is," he said, shrugging. "You have other options."

Tonks was examining the man's profile carefully.

"You hunt down other werewolves?"

He stiffened, shooting her a dark look over the rim of his mug.

"I don't have much choice," he said after he swallowed. "If I don't do what Beast Division wants, they'll revoke my permission to live outside Lunar District. I'll lose both my jobs, and Paddy will probably tear me apart the second I step through the gates."

"… Paddy?"

"Paddy O'Toole. He's the Brixton alpha. Brixton and Covent are the two strongest packs in Lunar District."

"… oh."

"Do I have to join a pack?"

Remus raised an eyebrow at the boy.

"Eh?"

Ron looked uncomfortable.

"Erm… Charlie said that since I don't have a clan mark, other werewolves might attack me and force me to join their pack."

Remus drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking weary.

"That was… somewhat true twenty years ago," he said quietly, almost to himself. "But there aren't any packs in Britain anymore, except in Lunar District. You'll need to be careful if you ever go to the mainland, though, and…" he grimaced, "… you should probably just avoid Russia and America altogether. But you're safe here. Well… relatively."

There was a brief silence. Ron was staring at the older man. Remus let out a frustrated sigh and ran one hand down his haggard face.

"… I'm sorry, kid," he muttered, shaking his head and bracing his forearms on the table. "I'm afraid I've dragged you into rather a complicated world."

Ron's throat bobbed. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

"Can you…"

He stopped, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then tried again.

"Will you be there for my first full moon?"

Remus stared at the boy on the other side of the table for a long moment. Then he cleared his throat.

"'Course I will," he said, voice rough and abrupt. "Where else would I be?"

The two werewolves examined each other silently. Then the moment was unceremoniously broken by a floating plate of eggs and toast. It clipped Remus's nose, then settled onto the table with a _thud_.

"Sorry, mate," James said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. "My aim's not great today."

The werewolf was staring down at the food, his face oddly pale. Tonks grabbed a fork out of the jar in the middle of the table and handed it to him.

"Eat."

He shot her a pleading look, but she just continued to hold the fork out. Finally, he grimaced and took it.

"I'm not hungry. This is going to make me sick."

She reached under the table and rested her hand on his knee, squeezing gently.

" _Not_ eating will make you sick, too. Just… try, okay?"

He hesitated, lips pulled into an unhappy grimace. Then, with a nod, he stabbed halfheartedly at a piece of scrambled egg. As he began to eat, James levitated more plates to the table.

"Should we wake up Harry?" he asked, settling down with his own breakfast. "'s not like him to sleep this late on Christmas."

"It's not like him to drink half a bottle of Firewhiskey, either," Lily said pointedly. Ron almost choked on a bite of toast.

"What?!" he spluttered, face splitting into a wide grin. "Was Harry drunk last night?"

"Potter men don't get _drunk_ – "

"You keep telling yourself that, dear – "

"Did he really drink half the bottle? I don't remember that…"

"Can I come here for Christmas Eve next year?" Ron asked eagerly. "Sounds a lot more fun than _my_ house."

"'Course you can," Sirius said, smiling at his godson's best friend. "The more, the merrier."

A brief silence followed as everyone began to eat. Tonks glanced over at Remus, not surprised to find him pushing food listlessly about on his plate. She reached over and squeezed his knee again. He shot her an annoyed glance, but finally stabbed another piece of egg and stuffed it in his mouth.

"You really a vegetarian?"

Both Tonks and Remus looked up at James's question. The werewolf's left hand clenched and unclenched on the table.

"… yeah."

"Huh," James remarked, raising his eyebrows. "Okay."

"I get that," Sirius remarked absently, slathering more butter on his toast. "I can't eat bacon or pork belly anymore. But everything else is – "

Remus's chair screeched on the stone floor as he shoved himself violently back from the table. Then he was on his feet and across the room, retching into the sink.

Tonks leapt to her feet and hurried towards him, but Lily caught her wrist and held her back. To her surprise, the older woman's hand was trembling.

"For _fuck's sake_ , Sirius," she hissed. Tonks glanced back to see that her cousin was standing as well, looking alarmed and ashamed.

"I'm sorry!" he protested. "I just – I forgot!"

"You _forgot?!_ "

"Forgot _what_?" Tonks demanded. But nobody answered her. Lily turned and put a hand on Remus's heaving shoulder. He flinched, shoving her away with one arm as he continued to shiver over the sink. He retched again, and Tonks's nose wrinkled as the smell of bile filled the kitchen.

"Somebody tell me what the _fuck_ is going on," she hissed through her teeth, turning to glare at the three former Order members. They stared guiltily back at her, and Lily opened her mouth. But the roar of the floo interrupted any explanation she might have given.

A short, plump woman stepped out of the fireplace, brushing soot off her patched apron. Ron – who had been staring, open-mouthed, at the scene in front of him – rocketed to his feet.

"Mum! I'm fine, I was going to – "

"I have been worried _sick_ , Ronald! You were supposed to talk to Sirius and come _straight back_ – "

"I know, I'm sorry, but – it's fine, he's – we – we can't turn him in, Mum – "

Ignoring the irate words that followed this statement, Tonks turned back to Remus.

"Hey," she whispered, approaching him slowly. Sidling up to the sink, she hesitantly reached out and pressed her hand against his shuddering torso. He didn't look up, but he didn't flinch away.

"Let's go upstairs, love," she whispered, as the voices behind them grew louder. "Come on."

He finally raised his head. His eyes were closed, but his mouth was twisted into a semblance of a smile.

"You're really seeing the best of me today, aren't you," he wheezed, ribcage heaving under her fingers. Tonks snorted, then wrapped her arm around his waist.

"Come on," she repeated, pulling him away from the sink. They started for the door, but Molly's strident tone filled the room and demanded their attention.

"… even fooled Dumbledore! The man is a professional _spy_ , Ron, you can't trust a word that comes out of his – "

"Molly, please calm down – "

"Where do you get off, telling me to calm down?!" the woman cried, rounding on Lily. "You let my son sit at the same table as the man who _infected him!_ "

"It was an accident mum, how many times do I have to – "

"I'm sorry," Molly said, shaking her head at the Potters, "but I can't keep quiet anymore. I don't understand what you all see in him, I really don't."

"Look, I know you're upset – "

" _Upset?!_ " she practically screamed, her eyes red-rimmed and shining with unshed tears. "That doesn't even begin to describe it, Lily! How would _you_ feel? If it had been _Harry?!_ "

Lily couldn't respond to this. She just stared at the older woman, mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

"You know," a hoarse voice chimed in, " _I_ had parents too."

Everyone turned to look at Remus. He was still leaning on Tonks, his face ashen and his jaw clenched.

"They were pack filth," Molly spat. "They probably infected you the moment you were bo – "

_"Fuck you!_ "

The shout took everyone by surprise. Tonks gaped up at the trembling man at her side. She had seen him angry many times before, but never like this. There was an almost… _brittle_ air to him – like one wrong word would shatter him into a thousand pieces. His shoulders were heaving, and his fingers were twisted in the fibers of her borrowed jumper. For a moment, it seemed like that was all he was going to say. But then he drew in a shaking breath and spoke again.

"Your son is _so lucky_ ," he hissed, pointing at Ron. "He has a family who can actually protect him, he has a _future_. Turn me in if you want to, but for God's sake, _stop complaining_."

For one rare moment, Molly Weasley was truly at a loss for words. She stared, open-mouthed, at the trembling man across the room. Then Ron strode abruptly towards the older werewolf, stopping beside him and turning to face his mother.

"If you turn him in, then I'm going with him."

For the first time in history, Molly Weasley and Remus Lupin agreed on something.

"Ronald, don't be stupid – "

"Stop being an idiot – "

The sound of the floo interrupted their unanimous response to the ultimatum. A familiar young man tumbled into the kitchen, landing beside his mother. Charlie straightened to his full – albeit unimpressive – height and took in the room with one sweep of his shrewd eyes. Molly turned to look at her son, obviously confused.

"I told you to _wait_ – "

"You took too long, I got worried," he growled, gaze finally settling on the werewolf standing beside his youngest brother. "Get out of the way, Ron."

His lips curled into a snarl and he took a step forward, raising his right arm.

It took far too long for Tonks to realize that one of her oldest friends was pointing a gun at Remus. The sight was too surreal, too… unbelievable. But then Remus was moving, grabbing a fistful of Ron's shirt and throwing the boy out of the line of fire. Tonks tried to push herself in front of him, but the ex-Reaper twisted on his feet, pulling her to his chest as he turned his back on Charlie.

A _snap-hiss_ and a pained grunt, and Remus's body lurched forward. Tonks clutched the front of his shirt to steady him, terrified gaze finding his.

" _Trank_ ," he hissed through gritted teeth. She practically threw him to the floor in her haste to turn him around. There it was, sticking out of his lower back – a large tranquiliser, dark green with white lettering down its side. She yanked it out, wincing when she saw the long, cruel needle at its tip.

"… 's just aconite," Remus mumbled, swaying on his feet. She caught him as best she could, guiding him rather gracelessly to the floor.

" _Lily!_ "

The healer was already beside her, helping to lower the man onto his side. Remus was deathly pale, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He reached trembling fingers towards the tranquiliser in Tonks's hand. Confused, she gave it to him.

" _Fuck_ ," he hissed, examining it through drooping eyelids. "I need… I need…"

But he never finished the sentence. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and his body went limp.

"Remus! _Remus!_ "


	9. Chapter 9

" _Fuck!_ "

Tonks took hold of the unconscious werewolf's wrist. She had to push quite hard on the vein before she felt his heartbeat – fast and thready. Lily grabbed the tranquilizer from his limp fingers and examined it, her eyebrows furrowed. In the background, Tonks was dimly aware of people shouting and the floo roaring.

"Do you know what this means?"

Lily shoved the tranquilizer under Tonks's nose. Small white letters stood out along its casing.

_PB/M/U/70-90kg_

"No," Tonks said, shaking her head. "Looks like the last bit refers to weight."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," the healer replied, pulling the tranquilizer back and peering down at it. "Remus is probably 80 kilos, so he's fine on that front, but – "

A shudder ran through the unconscious man's body. Both Tonks and Lily looked down at him. His face was taking on an ugly yellow pallor, his breath shallow and ragged. He shuddered again, his chest heaved, and suddenly his mouth was filling with light green foam. Tonks cried out in horror.

"What's happening to him?!"

"James _,_ " Lily snapped, her voice tense and professional, "I need you to get Severus."

"But he's at Hogwarts, Beast Division will be – "

"No, he's in Newcastle with his Muggle cousins. You'll have to take the floo to the Green Dragon and send a patronus from there. _Hurry!_ "

Her husband left without another word, his slippers flapping against the flagstones as he raced to the floo. Tonks only had eyes for Remus. His body was jerking uncontrollably, eyes half open and rolled back into his head.

"I thought aconite just knocked him out!"

"That's only if it's dosed correctly," Lily said grimly. "This is clearly too much for Remus."

"It was meant for me."

Ron's voice at her side made Tonks jump. She hadn't even noticed the boy kneeling next to her. His wide amber eyes were fixed on the shuddering man in front of him.

"Someone from Beast Division brought that gun to the house while we were in Scotland," he said. "Apparently it's standard issue for families of newly infected werewolves."

Tonks glanced over the boy's shoulder to find that Arthur had joined their strange party. The tall man had the front of Charlie's shirt in both hands, his usually friendly face twisted with horrified fury.

" – were you _thinking?_ You could have hit your brother!"

"Oh come on, Dad, I use trank guns all the time in – "

"Did you make sure it wasn't _silver_ – "

"Of course I did, I'm not an idiot!"

"Yes, you bloody well _are_!" Arthur practically screamed, shaking his son. "Do you even know what you've _done?_ "

Charlie gaped at his father, too shocked by the man's uncharacteristic rage to respond. Ron's oddly numb voice filled the silence.

"It takes more aconite to knock out a pureblood werewolf than a Muggle-born. This could _kill_ him."

Remus was now seizing on the floor, green foam spewing from his mouth. Tonks could barely see through the tears she was fiercely holding back.

"He's not Muggle-born," she gasped, desperate to believe it. "He's half – "

"Tonks," Ron cut her off, amber eyes full of sympathy, "he's Muggle-born. He was _terrified_ when you lot were asking about it earlier, I could smell it."

"He needs howlite."

Sirius was standing behind Lily, his grey eyes fixed on Remus.

"… _howlite?_ " Lily repeated, appalled. "You know how hard it was for him to get clean! We can't – "

"It's the only way to counteract all the aconite in his system," Sirius snapped. "Either he gets high, or he gets _dead_ , Lily. Pick one."

The healer's lips tightened unhappily. Her wand was tracing a complicated pattern in the air above her patient's chest. A sharp intake of breath told the onlookers that the diagnosis wasn't good.

"He's going into cardiac arrest," she hissed. "Where do you even _get_ howlite?"

"Lunar District," Tonks said. Her heart was pounding, she couldn't catch her breath. Her vision swam, colors smearing together and darkening at the edges. Remus was dying. He couldn't _die_.

"That's not an option," her cousin growled. "There must be some in Beast Division, they confiscate it all the time."

The words brought Tonks's world back into focus. She was on her feet and across the room in seconds. But a firm hand caught hers on the way to the pot of floo powder.

" _You're_ not going," Sirius hissed. "If Crowther catches you – "

"He won't catch me," she snapped, pulling free. She tried to push past her cousin, but he refused to move. Rage rose in her throat, but her words were as hard and cold as ice.

"Get out of my way, Sirius."

"No. That man will do _anything_ to get to Lupin, and if he finds you stealing howlite from his department, he'll put two and two together."

"What's he going to do, arrest me?"

"If you're lucky," her cousin snarled. "He might just torture you for information and wipe your memory afterward."

"What difference will it make if Remus is already _dead_?!"

"He's not going to die," Sirius grunted, turning on his feet to grab a handful of floo powder from the bowl on the mantle. "I won't let him."

"I can morph," Tonks argued stubbornly. "You can't. I have a better shot at getting that howlite, and you know it."

She held out her hand impatiently.

"I'm not a little girl anymore, cuz. Stop wasting time."

A muscle twitched in her cousin's jaw. Then he tipped the powder into her palm.

"Be _careful_."

Tonks nodded once, then glanced back at Lily. The healer's brow was furrowed in fierce concentration, her wand almost a blur above her struggling patient.

"How long does he have?"

"Not long," came the clipped response. " _Hurry_."

The young metamorphmagus turned to face the fire, determination spreading through her veins like molten steel. Running her wand down the length of her body, she transfigured her pajamas into black Beast Division robes. Then she screwed up her face and threw the floo powder into the flames.

Nymphadora Tonks leapt into the Grimmauld Place fire, and Neil Mulligan tumbled out of the Atrium floos.

Tonks straightened up. It always took a few minutes to get used to a new body. Neil was taller and skinnier than she was, and his feet felt like large boats attached to long legs. She glanced down and cursed. Molly Weasley's garish socks peeked out from under the sober black robes. Another quick wave of her wand, and the socks became black loafers. She hadn't received an Outstanding on her Transfiguration NEWT for nothing.

The floos were lined along a large hallway that emptied out into the main Atrium, which was now nothing more than a gigantic pile of rubble. Chunks of plaster and stone were piled haphazardly against the walls, clearing a path for the rescue crews. Reconstruction had not yet begun and even here in the entrance hall the lights were dim, the atmosphere cold and melancholy. Tonks had never given much thought to the fact that the Ministry was underground, but now it felt like she was standing in an immense cavern.

There was no time for reflection. She raced for the stairs, only tripping once in her haste. Hurrying down the steps, she thanked Merlin that it was Christmas. With any luck, Beast Division would be mostly deserted.

She forced herself to slow down as she approached the office. It wouldn't do to come bursting through the door, looking like the world was coming to an end. Taking a deep breath, she turned the brass knob and walked in, exuding confidence.

 _Act like you belong there, and people will have a hard time questioning it_ , Remus's voice said in the back of her mind. It was odd, reconciling the man she loved with the teacher she had feared just a few years ago. She pushed the thoughts away as she strode briskly across the large room. Several Werewolf Capture Unit employees were hunched at their desks, bored and surly. They barely looked up at her entrance, and she didn't spare them a glance. She knew where she was going.

She had been in the WCU evidence store once before, after her second mission as a qualified Auror. A routine stakeout with Dawlish had gone south when the French smuggler they'd been following turned out to be a werewolf wearing contact lenses. A rather harrowing fight had ensued, and when she returned to the Auror Office with blood running down her face and adrenaline pumping in her veins, she distinctly remembered Remus yelling at her for nearly ten minutes about taking ' _unnecessary risks'._

The grey metal door that led to the evidence store was small, unassuming, and locked. Tonks's stomach lurched. She couldn't ask Neil's coworkers for the key – the young man's voice was deep and utterly beyond her ability to mimic. Pulling her wand up into her sleeve, she tapped the doorknob surreptitiously.

" _Alohamora._ "

Nothing. She stifled a curse. There was no time for this. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and _willed_ the door to open.

Wandless magic was still a mystery to her, as it was to most wizards. It took a disciplined mind to control the unpredictable forces of raw magic. Tonks knew she was as likely to set the door on fire as she was to unlock it, and in all probability nothing would happen at all. But her successes earlier that morning gave her newfound hope – hope that was rewarded by the sound of tumblers falling into place. The door swung silently open and Tonks stepped inside, shutting it behind her before letting out an audible sigh of relief. Over the first hurdle, on to the next.

The only light in the room was a flickering blue lamp mounted on the wall next to the door. Tonks could barely make out rows of shelves reaching up into the gloom above her head, and out into the darkness in front of her. The shelves were full of boxes, all of them labeled in identical black lettering. As she moved along the first row, lamps on the wall to her right burst into flame and illuminated her path.

 _RW5783_ … _RW4902_ … _RW7956_ …

Somewhere in this barely organized chaos, Tonks knew there was a cardboard box labeled _RW10023_ , where she had placed the French werewolf's wand, wallet, and the knife with which he had tried to kill her. If these other boxes contained the possessions of all the werewolves Beast Division had ever arrested, surely there was some howlite to be had here.

" _Accio howlite!_ "

Nothing happened. Gritting her teeth, Tonks tried a wandless summoning charm. Still nothing.

"… Merlin's fucking bollocks…"

She crouched down, yanked a box out at random and began to rifle through it. A broken wand, a blue scarf stained brown with old blood, and a tattered old photograph. A man and a small girl, smiling at the camera. Tonks didn't have the emotional capacity to contemplate the story behind these objects. She was already on to the next box. It was heavier than the last, filled with broken doxy egg shells and a leather-bound ledger. The next box was full to the brim with papers. Tonks caught a glimpse of the words _'… unfit for care…'_ before slamming it shut and reaching for another.

A key turned in the lock behind her, and the door creaked open. Tonks forced herself not to look up. Neil Mulligan belonged here, he had nothing to hide. The door shut again. There was a pause, then an intake of breath.

"… you didn't get my ears right."

The young metamorphmagus froze. Of all the rotten luck…

Slowly, she turned wide eyes to the door. Neil Mulligan might belong here, but _two_ Neil Mulligans most certainly did not. The young man was staring down at her, torn between amusement and alarm.

"Other than that, you're spot on," he said, surveying her features shrewdly. "What are you doing here, Tonks?"

Words were temporarily unavailable. She gaped at him like a fish out of water, kneeling on the cold floor with her hands buried in yet another box full of files. The man raised an eyebrow.

"I don't want to know, do I?"

"… no," she managed to whisper pathetically. "Probably not."

He approached her slowly, as one would a spooked deer. He crouched down several feet away, eyes fixed on hers.

"… what do you need?"

Tonks stared at him for a long moment. Then desperation made the decision for her.

"Howlite. I need howlite."

The man nodded, his jaw clenching.

"Right. You won't find it here, we keep it all in the back. Come on."

He stood up and gestured for her to follow. Barely a moment of hesitation later, she hurried down the central aisle after him. They didn't speak. The only sounds were their feet hitting the stone floor and the _whoosh_ of blue lamps bursting into flame as they passed. The store room was proving to be much larger than she had realized, and it felt like an age before they reached the back wall, where several large metal boxes sat like chess pieces waiting to be played. Neil threw one of them open and Tonks wrinkled her nose. It smelled horrible – a harsh combination of nail polish remover, vinegar, and body odor.

"What does he need? Intravenous or oral?" her guide asked, rummaging about inside. Tonks heard the clink of glass and the scrape of metal on metal. She didn't bother to deny the _'he'_ in his question.

"Intravenous. That'll hit faster, right?"

"Should do. Was it one of our boys that got him?"

"No. It was a… friend."

Neil snorted.

"Some friend."

As the young man continued to rummage through the box, Tonks examined his profile carefully. The last time she'd seen Neil, he had just put a bullet through a young werewolf's brain.

"Why are you helping me?"

His shoulders tensed, but he didn't look up.

"Damian isn't the only one who thinks Professor Lupin is innocent," he murmured. "Crowther wants him dead for some reason, and we need to know why."

Before she could respond, Neil held up two syringes.

"First one in the carotid artery. If that doesn't work, put the second one in his heart."

She took them with shaking fingers and slipped them into her pocket.

"How do I get out of here? Your coworkers are bound to notice two Neils walking by them."

"You'd be surprised. Only the dimmest officers get assigned desk duty on Christmas. You go first, I'll just wait a few minutes."

Tonks nodded firmly. Neil opened his mouth to say something else, but she was already sprinting for the door.

Forcing herself to walk calmly back through Beast Division was the hardest thing she had ever done. Every second counted, every moment could be Remus's last. When she finally reached the privacy of the stairs, she sprinted up them like Voldemort himself was on her heels. By the time she reached the only functioning floos in the Atrium hallway, she was clutching a painful stitch in her side.

"Neil!"

The booming voice brought her twisting around, her wand in her hand before her brain could catch up. Damian raised his hands instantly, grey eyes bewildered.

"Whoa, whoa, kid. Calm down. It's me."

She didn't have time for this. Tonks lowered her wand and rushed to the nearest floo, grabbing some powder out of the communal bowl. A large hand on her arm held her back.

"Neil, can I talk to – "

"Get off me!" she cried. Damian froze, his grip on her arm tightening painfully.

"… you really need to work on your voices, lass," he hissed, something like anger flashing in his eyes.

"Let me _go_ ," she hissed back, glancing around. A few other Ministry employees were straggling through the hallway, and Tonks could see more than one odd look being cast their way.

"What are you doing here?"

"Trying to save Remus's _life_."

He stared at her for a single moment. Then he nodded.

"Right. You're taking me with you."

"No, I'm _not_ – "

He manhandled her towards the floo.

"I'm on your side, lass. Stop wasting time."

She glared up at him, jaw clenched. He glared right back, eyes hard as steel. Finally, with an angry huff, she turned and flung the powder into the fire.

" _Grimmauld Place!_ "

Traveling by floo with someone else was highly unpleasant under the best of circumstances. When that someone else happened to be enormous, it was almost intolerable. Other fireplaces rushed by in a blur of flame and soot, and Damian's broad shoulders jostled painfully against her as they twisted their way towards Grimmauld Place. After what felt like forever, Tonks tumbled onto the cold kitchen floor with a painful jolt, every part of her body either singed or bruised. A series of curses to her left told her that Damian had fared no better, but her mind was already elsewhere.

"What the – "

"Who are you?!"

"Ron, hold his chin up – "

"They're Beast Division! Get them _out_ of – "

"It's me!"

Tonks rocketed to her feet, swaying slightly as the world spun around her. Screwing up her face, she dropped the morph.

"It's me," she repeated. She fumbled in the pocket of her robes and pulled out the two precious syringes. Miraculously, they were unharmed by her violent trip through the floo.

"'Bout _bloody_ time!"

A black-haired man wearing corduroy trousers and a Muggle Christmas jumper strode towards her and snatched them from her fingers. Tonks gaped. Some wizards could pull off Muggle attire. Severus Snape was not one of them.

Any amusement she might have felt at the sight of her old Potions master in sparkly red and green knitwear abruptly died when her eyes fell on Remus. He was lying on the kitchen table, white as death and terrifyingly still. Lily was on her knees on the table beside him, pressing her palms rhythmically into his chest. Ron was kneeling next to her, golden eyes fixed on the comatose werewolf.

"Now!" Lily cried, and the boy leaned down. He pressed his mouth to Remus's, pushing oxygen into the man's lungs. Tonks felt ice filling her veins.

"He'll be alright," Sirius was saying in her ear, voice trembling. "You got the howlite, he'll be fine."

Snape didn't bother trying one syringe at a time. He took the tops off both of them and pushed the plungers up until clear liquid trickled from the ends of each needle. Then, without hesitation, he sank them into Remus's chest and emptied the contents.

"Get back," he snapped, pulling Lily's hands away from her patient.

"What?" she demanded. "He's not breathing yet, he doesn't have a _pulse_!"

"He will soon," the ex-Death Eater growled, gesturing Ron off the table. Then he pointed his wand at the unconscious werewolf.

"What are you – "

" _Exardesco!_ "

White lightning erupted from the end of Snape's wand and wrapped itself around Remus's chest. The werewolf's back arched, his body seizing as electricity coursed through him. The acrid scent of ozone filled the air and more than one person screamed. But then the lightning was gone and Remus's body slammed back onto the table. He writhed in silent agony, breath coming in harsh gasps and golden eyes suddenly wide open and wild.

"Remus!"

Tonks leapt forward, but Snape beat her to the werewolf's side. He put a large, pale hand on Remus's cheek, turning his face towards him. The man flinched, his chest heaving as he tried to push himself away from the touch.

"Hey, _hey_ ," Snape hissed, grabbing the werewolf's chin and forcing him to meet his eyes. "It's _me_."

Tonks had reached the table, but one frantic gesture from Snape kept her from touching her trembling boyfriend. She watched helplessly as Remus stared at the black-haired man hovering over him.

"… S – Sev?"

"Yeah, mate. Listen, I had to – "

"… _fuck_ – "

Horror was twisting Remus's face. His limbs were twitching and he tore his chin out of Snape's grasp, raising his right arm and gaping at it through dilated pupils. An incoherent moan rose in his throat.

"… get it out of me, get it _out! Get it out!_ "

He thrashed on the table, scratching at his forearms so brutally that his fingernails left bloody lines in the skin. Snape grabbed his wrists and struggled to hold him down.

"Remus, stop! _Stop it!_ "

" _Don't touch me!_ "

The ex-Reaper's voice cracked under the strain of his hysterical cry. With one violent motion he threw Snape backward into Ron. Then he sat up and continued to tear at his forearms. Blood trickled down his hands and onto the wooden table beneath him.

"… no, no, no no no…"

He was sobbing. Tonks didn't know what to do. Nobody did. They just stood there in silence for nearly a minute as the werewolf fell apart in front of them.

Finally, Snape took a tentative step back towards his patient.

"… Remus."

No response, save muffled curses and stifled gasps.

"You didn't do this."

The man's breath hitched, but he didn't look up. He had finally stopped scratching at his arms and was now huddled into himself, head buried in his knees. Snape took another step forward.

" _I_ did this. I gave you the howlite."

Remus's shoulders tensed. Slowly, he looked up, his bloodshot gaze finding Snape immediately.

"… w- what?"

He drew in a shaking breath, eyes narrowing in confusion.

" _Why?_ "

"To save your life," Snape said simply, holding up the empty tranquilizer. "Don't you remember?"

Remus stared at the tranquilizer for a long moment. Then he turned his gaze abruptly back to his knees. Tonks could see his eyes darting back and forth under his brows, surreptitiously taking stock of the other people in the room. Drawing in a deep breath, she stepped forward.

"… Remus, are you al – "

" _No!_ "

He scrambled backwards down the table and rolled off, landing on his feet with surprising grace. Holding his hands up in front of him, he backed up until he hit the wall.

"Stay away from me," he hissed, eyes determinedly fixed on the floor. "Just… _stay away_."

His head jerked to the side and he drew in a sharp breath through his teeth. His eyes slammed shut and his fingers clenched into white-knuckled fists. For over a minute, he seemed to concentrate deeply on his breathing. Then, to Tonks's surprise, a slow smile spread across his face. It grew into a toothy grin she had never seen on him. He chuckled and rolled his head slowly around on his shoulders before opening his eyes.

"I forgot how fucking good this feels."

They gaped at him in silence. He stared back, the gold of his irises now barely visible in thin rings around his dilated black pupils. He wiped the residual tears off his face with one hand, then jerked his chin at Damian.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

The large man opened his mouth, but no words came out. Tonks turned to look at him. There was blatant fear in his grey eyes. The ex-Reaper chuckled again. It was not a kind sound.

"'s matter, Dempsey? Never seen a werewolf on howlite?"

Before anyone could react, Remus was across the room and in Damian's face. He was half the officer's size, and yet Damian cowered away from him, hand reaching for a gun on his belt that wasn't there. Remus didn't touch him. He didn't need to. A cold laugh echoed against the stone walls.

"Don't shit yourself, mate. I'm not going to hurt you."

Damian's jaw clenched and his shoulders squared. Then Remus feinted forward and the officer flinched back in tandem. The werewolf laughed again.

"Stop it."

Remus turned his head quickly, eyes taking on a predatory gleam as his body followed. Tonks stood her ground as he slowly approached her.

"Alright," he murmured, the corner of his mouth quirking as he stared down his nose at her. "Whatever you say."

Tonks raised her chin defiantly.

"I don't know who the fuck you are, but I'd like _my_ Remus back, please."

He examined her for a long moment, his black eyes sending a shiver down her spine.

"I don't have a split personality, Dora. This is who I am."

"Who you are on howlite."

He shrugged.

"Sure."

He was far too close for comfort. Tonks could feel his body heat, see the sweat beading on his forehead, smell his hot breath. It smelled like bile and vinegar, and she couldn't stop herself from taking a step back. He smirked.

"… and she finally understands."

He turned away abruptly, before she could ask him what he meant. He strode swiftly around the table and past the flabbergasted Weasleys, heading straight for the door.

"Where are you going?" Snape demanded, hurrying after him.

"Anywhere but here."

"You can't – _ah! Fuck_ , Remus!"

Snape had grabbed the werewolf's shoulder, with painful results. Remus took his wrist in one hand and twisted it cruelly, pushing the older man away from him.

"Don't touch me."

"Fine, you arsehole," Snape snarled nastily, cradling his injured wrist. "But you can't just waltz out of here. In case you've forgotten, Crowther wants your head on a pike."

"I'd like to see him try."

"Well, _I wouldn't_."

The angry hiss brought Remus up short. He turned back to Snape and raised an eyebrow.

"Don't tell me _you've_ started to give a shit."

"I _always_ gave a shit!"

The werewolf snorted and headed towards the door again. Snape growled angrily and pulled out his wand, leveling it at the man's retreating back.

"Don't make me stun you!"

Remus froze. Slowly, he turned back around. A soft smile graced his lips, his dilated eyes appraising as he cocked his head at the black-haired potions master.

"Go on, then."

Snape hesitated, licking his lips. He opened his mouth.

" _Stupe – !_ "

His wand sailed out of his hand before the spell left his lips. Remus caught it deftly, brandishing it at the older man in a triumphant flourish.

"I still don't understand how you lot won," he said, shaking his head. " _Pathetic_."

His lips curved into a cold smile, and a thin line of blood trickled from his nose. Wand still trained on Snape, he raised his left hand to his face. Glancing down, surprise flickered in his eyes when he saw the red liquid that stained his fingers.

"We won because _you_ helped us," Snape said softly, hands held out in front of him. The werewolf's face twisted into a snarl at the words, blood forgotten as he looked up.

"Yeah, and I _shouldn't_ have!" he yelled, knuckles white around the stolen wand. "What did _I_ get out of it? Eh? A better world, a better _life?_ "

He spat on the floor.

"I should have just kept my head down and followed orders. I should have let Pettigrew spy on you, I shouldn't have helped Regulus find the Horcruxes. Lunar District would be empty, Vlad would still have his soul, Soha would still be _alive!_ "

This last bellowed word echoed around the room for several seconds. Remus was breathing heavily, the tip of the stolen wand trembling as he leveled it at its owner. Snape was still oddly calm.

"Remus," he said firmly, shaking his head, "Riddle was never going to let you go free. You're a _mudblood_."

Remus flinched violently at this, but Snape pressed on.

"He would have killed you – and everyone _like_ you – the moment he decided you weren't useful anymore. He was sucking you dry. You almost _died_ taking down that bridge, remember? And he didn't give a shit."

"Neither did your precious _Order_ ," Remus snarled.

" _I_ did," Snape growled. "Albus did."

"Then why did you send me back?!"

The ex-Reaper's entire body was trembling now. Blood was streaming freely from his nose, through the stubble on his chin and onto his shirt. His gaze darted from Snape to Sirius to James and Lily and back again.

"Why did you keep sending me _back?_ " he demanded again. He jerked the wand in Ron's direction.

"I was younger than _he_ is! Would you send _him_ to Tantallon Castle? Ask _him_ to lie to the Dark Lord's face?"

Ron was now standing beside his parents. Out of the corner of her eye, Tonks saw Molly grasp at the boy's arm with one shaking hand. A muscle twitched in Remus's jaw and he readjusted his hold on the wand.

"I don't know what you want me to say," Snape said wearily. "I would say I'm sorry, but I'm not. If we'd pulled you out, there's a very real chance that everyone in this room would be dead now."

The werewolf didn't have an immediate response to that. His eyes flickered around the kitchen, finally landing on Tonks for a single second before skittering back to Snape. His throat bobbed. His bloody nose was beginning to look truly alarming.

"But a lot of other people would still be alive."

"You don't know that. And it doesn't matter _anyway_ , Remus. What's done is done."

"For _you_ , maybe," the man hissed. "You don't have to see them every time you close your eyes."

To Tonks's surprise, Snape let out a dark chuckle.

"You really think you're the only one who has nightmares?" he drawled. "Grow up, boy. We all lost people in that war."

"I didn't lose _people!_ " Remus bellowed. "I lost _everyone,_ and every _thing!_ And you expect me to be grateful that I'm still alive!"

Snape let out a deep, weary sigh. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I thought we were done with these little existential crises."

"Oh, I'm sorry," the werewolf snarled nastily. "Next time you pump me full of a Class A stimulant, I'll try not to yell at you."

"Howlite doesn't give you the excuse to act like a child!" Snape hissed, dropping his hand back to his side. "Give me back my wand, Remus, before I take it from you."

Remus snorted and raised his eyebrows in a blatant challenge.

"Severus…"

Lily took a step forward, words of caution on her lips. Snape ignored her. He surged forward, a wandless shield charm deflecting a jet of red light from Remus's wand. He grabbed the younger man's wrist and pulled hard, jerking him off balance. The werewolf aimed a punch at the man's head, but Snape grabbed that wrist too. With both of the ex-Reaper's arms temporarily out of action, Snape did something entirely unexpected. He headbutted the struggling werewolf. Tonks grimaced at the sickening sound of their skulls colliding.

Remus stumbled, clearly stunned. Snape took advantage of the moment and twisted the smaller man around, pulling his right elbow behind his back and forcing him face-first into the floor. The wand went skittering away across the flagstones.

"Get off! _Get off!_ "

The werewolf's voice cracked in desperation. Snape pinned him down with his legs, features grim and determined.

"Remus, stop fighting me."

His words went unheeded. The ex-Reaper struggled. Blood spattered the floor under his face and Snape's voice rose.

"Stop trying to use magic! You'll kill yourself!"

"Get the _fuck off me!_ "

" _Stupefy!_ "

A jet of red light hit the werewolf's head, and he went limp. Sirius stood over the two men, wand still outstretched. Snape looked up, his face twisting into an angry snarl.

"You didn't have to do that!"

"I beg to differ," Sirius retorted. "He was out of control."

"And so you put him down like an animal?"

"That's what he _is_ when he's on howlite. You know that better than anyone."

"Fuck you, Black," Snape hissed, releasing his grip on the unconscious man. "You're half the reason he's like this."

Sirius didn't deny it. He just put his wand back in his pocket and turned away. A shaken silence descended on the kitchen. Tonks watched numbly as Snape turned Remus's limp body over. The man was pale, bloody, but breathing. Her feet moved without instruction, bringing her to his side. As she knelt down, Snape shot her an unreadable glance.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he grunted. Tonks blinked, then looked up at him in surprise. He grimaced.

"He worked so hard to stay clean. This is…"

He trailed off, a vein throbbing in his forehead. Slowly, he turned cold eyes to the man responsible. Charlie was standing behind his mother, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"I hope you're happy, you cowardly little flobberworm," Snape spat. Charlie shifted on his feet, brow furrowing in defiant anger.

"I didn't know it would do that to him! I just wanted to knock him out!"

"So you could bring him back to Crowther?"

Charlie raised his chin.

"He should be in Azkaban. Crowther's the only one who will give us justice."

"Crowther's not interested in _justice_ ," a deep voice interjected. "He just wants to save his own skin."

Everyone turned to look at Damian. He was staring at the comatose man on the floor, face pale and fists clenched. He strode briskly across the room, crouched down beside Tonks, and pushed the left sleeve of Remus's t-shirt up.

"You ever seen that mark?"

He was pointing at the small, silvery tattoo on the werewolf's shoulder. Tonks squinted at it. It was misshapen, like it had been stretched over more skin than it had originally covered. Cocking her head, she could almost imagine it to be a number enclosed in a circle – 14, or maybe 19. Snape shrugged.

"He's always had that. I think it's a clan mark."

"It isn't. Clans don't use silver ink. That's a Ministry tattoo, and it's _old_."

Snape's body tensed.

"… what?"

"And this," Damian continued, pushing up Remus's right sleeve now and pointing at the nasty band of scar tissue that encircled his right bicep. "This is an amputation scar. He got hit with a silver trank, and someone cut his arm off to stop it from spreading."

Tonks felt sick. Snape just looked nonplussed.

"… so?"

"Look at the _tattoos_ , mate," Damian hissed, gesturing to the elaborate swirling patterns of black ink that stretched from Remus's fingers, up his forearm and past his shoulder. "These are from the Lothians, and he got them _after_ his arm was amputated. Otherwise they wouldn't be here. An amputation is a mark of pride, they don't redo the tattoos afterwards."

"What are you saying?"

Damian grimaced and shook his head.

"I… I don't really know. All I have are theories."

"What theories?"

The large man huffed in frustration and pushed himself to his feet. He paced back to the fireplace, then crossed his arms over his chest and turned around.

"What does that tranquilizer say?"

He jerked his chin at the empty green casing on the floor. Tonks hesitated, then reached over and picked it up.

"PB – "

"Pureblood."

"M – "

"Male."

"U – "

"Untransformed."

"… 70 to 90 kilograms."

A confused silence followed. Damian stared at her expectantly, and she threw her arms out to the side.

"What?"

"How the hell did they get that specific?" the officer demanded. "They've always been that way. No testing period, nothing. We were fighting a losing battle against the packs when he invented those things, so nobody questioned it. Aconite and silver are rare and expensive, so it made sense not to use any more than was strictly necessary. But for the life of me, I cannot fathom how he calculated the doses."

Before anyone could respond to this, the floo burst into flame and Bill Weasley tumbled into the kitchen. He took one look at the werewolf crumpled on the floor and turned accusing eyes on his younger brother.

"What did you do?!"

"It was just aconite!" Charlie protested. "I didn't know he was Muggle-born!"

"Nobody did," Molly said, leaping to his defense. "He was just trying to protect Ron."

"By hurting an innocent man?"

"He's not _innocent_ – "

"He saved our _lives_ , mum!"

"What on earth are you talking about, William?"

"Don't play dumb," Bill snapped. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Molly swelled like an offended bullfrog.

"How many times do I have to tell you, it was _Regulus_ who – "

"Regulus Black couldn't duel to save his life – no offense," Bill retorted, shooting an apologetic glance at Sirius. "But mum, Lupin knew we lived in a swamp. It was pitch black outside, and he'd never been there before – at least, not to our knowledge. It makes too much _sense_."

Molly's chest heaved in several angry breaths. Then she turned on Snape, fire in her gaze.

"Severus, for Merlin's sake tell me the truth. Who killed Bellatrix?"

The black-haired potions master stared up at her from the floor. His hand tightened around Remus's wrist. But Tonks beat him to it.

"Remus did."

The words were met with tense silence. Everyone's eyes fell on her, and Tonks clenched her fists.

"He told me last week."

Molly scoffed.

"He made that up so you'd sleep with him, you foolish girl."

Tonks gaped at her incredulously. Even Arthur turned to stare at his wife.

"What sort of sick person do you think I am?" the young metamorphmagus demanded. "On what planet is that sort of information a turn-on?"

The red-haired matriarch opened her mouth to unleash more fury, but her husband cut her off.

"Stop," he said firmly, resting a hand on her arm. "All of you, just… _stop_."

He glared at everyone with the practiced eye of a placid man with a large, fiery-tempered family. Even Molly looked chagrined under his gaze, and for the first time since she'd seen the tranquilizer sticking out of Remus's back, Tonks felt her pulse returning to something resembling normality. Arthur drew in a deep breath, then looked at Snape.

"Is he alright?"

Snape's mouth tightened in a grim line as he stared down at the comatose werewolf.

"He will be. Lils, do you have any dreamless sleep potion here? Now that he's out, I want to keep him that way as long as possible. Let the howlite work its way out of his system."

"I have some upstairs," Lily said, getting to her knees beside her childhood friend. Her wand was once again moving in a complicated pattern over Remus's body.

"We probably gave him more howlite than he needed," she said, entirely focused on her task. "His heart is still racing. I don't want to give him any potions until it's settled a bit more."

Snape grimaced.

"I didn't have time to measure the exact dose."

"I know. He'll be fine, don't worry. He's just going to have a rough few days."

"Bloke can't seem to catch a break."

They turned to see Ron standing over them, arms crossed tightly over his chest and face pinched with worry.

"Why _did_ you keep sending him back?" he asked, golden eyes flickering to Snape. "Sounds like he has a right to be angry."

"He does," the man replied simply. "We should have pulled him out the second we found out how old he was. But sometimes you have to do the wrong thing to get the right outcome. He understands that, he just…"

Snape let out a frustrated huff, turning away from the boy.

"… let's just say that howlite doesn't bring out the best in him."

Lily finished her brief examination and looked up at her husband.

"James, can you make up one of the guest bedrooms? I want to get him off the floor."

The man nodded and hurried off up the stairs. Tonks turned back to Damian. She hadn't forgotten what he'd been saying before Bill's untimely arrival.

"Remus knows something about Crowther," she said firmly. "I was morphed as him the other day, and Remus didn't realize it was me. He said something about a – a _secret_. He said he hadn't told anyone, that the secret was safe with him, just like it's always been."

Damian's grey eyes hardened.

"Right, well. The second he wakes up, we're prying it out of him. Crowther and the other higher-ups are trying to hide something, and I want to know what it is."

"Good luck prying anything out of this stubborn prat," Snape muttered, jerking his chin at Remus. "If I want to know something, I usually have to pour a few bottles of whiskey down his throat so he doesn't remember that I asked."

A contemplative silence followed this statement. Damian turned to Lily, eyebrows raised.

"How soon can he handle alcohol?"


	10. Chapter 10

"Not for another month or two, if I have anything to say about it."

There was no arguing with Lily Potter when she used that tone of voice. She crouched over her patient like a defensive dragon, eyes flaming at Damian. Tonks felt a sudden and overwhelming affection for her.

"He's physically, mentally, and magically exhausted, he's had two entirely different drugs pumped into him in rapid succession, and he hasn't eaten anything in _three days_ ," the healer snapped, glaring at Damian. "He's been through the bloody ringer, and the last thing he needs is _you_ lot trying to get information out of him."

"Lily, he can't run forever," Snape said quietly from beside her. His dark brown eyes were distant and thoughtful as he looked down at the unconscious werewolf.

"He won't have to," Lily retorted. "Dumbledore will speak to the Wizengamot, he'll sort it out. They can't throw him in Azkaban without any _proof_ – "

"They can," Snape cut her off, "and they will. Albus doesn't have the influence he used to. The Board of Governors asked him to retire yesterday."

There was a collective gasp. Molly let out what could only be described as a small shriek.

"That's _true?_ " she demanded. The potions master nodded curtly.

"Yes. Albus can't help him. He's on his own."

Stunned silence followed this pronouncement. Tonks gaped at the former Death Eater. She couldn't imagine Hogwarts without Dumbledore. She doubted anyone in the room could.

"But…"

Tonks turned to see Molly shifting on her feet, her grip on Ron's arm so tight he winced.

"But who's going to be Headmaster now?" the woman asked, her voice weak. "Will they… will they let Ron - ?"

"Mum," the boy cut her off awkwardly, "I can't go back to Hogwarts. Even Dumbledore couldn't make that happen."

Molly's face fell. For a moment, Tonks almost felt sorry for her.

"But… but you only have half a year left. Besides, you're not… you're not – "

A hot, rash feeling rose in Tonks's throat, and words were tumbling from her mouth before she could stop them.

"He's not _what_ , Molly? A werewolf? Hate to break it to you, but he _is_. And our government doesn't seem to think werewolves deserve an education."

Her righteous anger faded abruptly in the wake of Molly's reaction. The woman's eyes filled with tears, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Tonks grimaced, but she wasn't given the chance to apologize.

"Room's ready," James said, hurrying back into the kitchen with a bundle of clothing in his hands. "I grabbed some of Sirius's old pajamas too, figured he'd be, uh… more comfortable."

He gestured awkwardly at the unconscious man on the floor. There was a moment of uncertain silence, and Tonks reached for her wand. Should she levitate him upstairs? It seemed rather undignified.

Snape solved the dilemma for her. He slid one arm under Remus's shoulders, the other under his knees, and stood up. Tonks scrambled to her feet as well, trying to ignore the unpleasant twisting in her gut that told her this was all _wrong_. Remus was the sort of person who, for better or worse, filled every room he entered. There was an energy to him, an _intensity_ that never seemed to fade, no matter how tired or sick or upset he was. To see him like this – limp and pale and hanging from Snape's arms like a broken puppet – was deeply disturbing.

"Bloody hell, mate," Sirius quipped. "You work out much?"

Obviously her cousin was not as affected by the sight. Snape shot him a withering glance.

"He's not heavy."

With that, he turned and made for the door. Tonks hurried after him.

"You can just put him in my room," she said, following her old potions professor up the stairs. The man made a noise that might have been a snort.

"He needs _rest_ , Miss Tonks, not vigorous sexual activity."

"For fuck's sake," she exploded, "we're not sleeping together!"

She couldn't see Snape's face, but she could almost _hear_ his raised eyebrow.

"Then he has more self-control than I gave him credit for. He talks about you with nauseating frequency."

Tonks blushed fiercely and morphed to cover it. Behind her, James let out a cough that sounded a lot like a laugh. Snape reached the landing and paused.

"… which way to your room?"

She smiled.

"Down the hall and up the stairs."

When they reached her room, Snape laid Remus gently down on the bed then turned to James.

"You get his shirt, I'll get his trousers."

The blush that overtook Tonks's face this time was not so easy to morph away. She turned her back as the two men proceeded to undress the unconscious werewolf. Snape let out a bark of harsh laughter.

"You really haven't slept with him, have you?"

Her jaw clenched and she crossed her arms.

"That's really none of your business, is it?"

The former Death Eater wisely left it alone. Cloth moved against cloth for several more seconds.

"Alright, he's decent."

She turned around, and her breath caught. Remus was tucked under her grandmother's quilt, his baggy blue pajama top making him look more like a little boy than a grown werewolf. If it weren't for his unnaturally pale countenance and the blood staining his nose and chin, he would look almost peaceful. Hurried footsteps on the hallway floorboards preceded the arrival of Lily.

"Right," the healer said crisply, cradling several large bottles in her arms as she entered the room, "I have enough dreamless sleep potion to knock James out for an entire week."

"Ah," Snape remarked drily, "the secrets of your marriage are finally revealed."

Lily shot him an unamused glance, then dumped the bottles onto the bed next to Remus.

"With his metabolism," she said, gesturing to the werewolf, "we'll be lucky if this lasts until tomorrow morning. He'll still be in withdrawal."

"Can you get more?"

"Not without people asking questions. What about the Hogwarts stores?"

Snape grimaced.

"I try not to keep dreamless sleep potion in stock. It's not healthy for us to rely on it so much. Besides, Crowther is monitoring all the floos at Hogwarts, he could trace me back here."

Lily nodded.

"Alright, well… we can't just stun him again, that's not healthy either. We'll just have to be prepared when he wakes up."

"It won't be so bad this time," Snape assured her. "He's only had the two hits, and a lot of that was soaked up by the aconite."

The healer was waving her wand at the potion bottle. Tonks watched as thick blue liquid swirled out of the top and arched through the air, making its way to Remus's mouth. Snape propped the younger man up and held his head back, pinching his nose shut. The unconscious werewolf choked, sputtered, but finally swallowed. Tonks winced as the bottle was slowly drained down his throat.

"Is this really necessary?" she asked.

"Yes," Snape said shortly. "Howlite is one of the most addictive drugs in the world. People tend to lose their minds coming off it. It's safer for everyone if he's asleep."

Tonks couldn't watch any more. She busied herself by picking Remus's discarded clothes up off the floor. The ridiculous wolf t-shirt was stained with blood, but she didn't trust her own cleaning charms. She folded it loosely and put it on the windowsill, then grabbed the jeans. As she pulled them up, a strange sort of slithering sound filled the room, followed by the tell-tale _clink_ of metal on metal. Tonks frowned and moved the jeans aside.

A long, silvery chain was crumpled on the floor at her feet. Two small circular metal discs were attached to it, symbols stamped into their surfaces. Brow furrowed, Tonks stooped to pick up the strange necklace. She brought one of the discs into the light pouring through the window behind her.

_O Pos_

_394822_

_Exley_

_Thomas J._

Tonks blinked. She looked at the second disc. It bore the same words and letters. Both discs were worn, the edges smooth.

"What's that?"

James's voice startled her. She glanced up to find him also staring at the necklace.

"I dunno," she replied, shrugging. "It fell out of Remus's pocket. I got these jeans from Sirius though; it could belong to one of his paramores."

"Those are dogtags."

Both James and Tonks turned confused eyes to Lily. The woman was still draining the first bottle of dreamless sleep potion into Remus's mouth. She spared a glance at Tonks and jerked her chin at the necklace.

"Muggle soldiers wear them so their bodies can be identified if they're killed in action."

"That's… horrible."

"Better than the alternative," the older woman said. "Binns had a whole section on World War I in History of Magic, weren't you paying attention?"

"Were _you?_ " Tonks asked incredulously. Beside her, James tried and failed to suppress a snigger. Lily's lips quirked as the first bottle of potion ran dry. She cast a quick cleaning charm, removing the blood and spilled blue liquid from Remus's pale face. As Snape lay the man down again, she stood up and walked over to Tonks.

"Let me see?"

Tonks handed her the necklace. Lily examined it curiously.

"My dad fought in the Korean War, he has one of these. It probably belongs to one of Sirius's boyfriends."

"I didn't think he was into army types," James said, sticking his hands in his pockets. The motion reminded Tonks of something.

"No," she murmured, almost to herself. "No, it… it belongs to Remus. Or Regulus, at least. I saw him put it in his pocket earlier, when we were in the attic. He must have found it in Reg's old things."

"Why would _Regulus_ have Muggle… what are they called again?" James asked.

"Dogtags."

"Weird name."

"Can I…?"

Snape had joined them. He held out his hand to Lily and she gave him the necklace. He examined it closely, lips pulled into a grim line.

"I've seen these before."

"You have?"

"Remus used to wear them all the time. He never took them off, and he never let me look at them."

They stared at him for a moment. Then Tonks drew in a sharp breath.

"Why are they here? Why did Regulus have them?"

Snape sighed wearily, rubbing his temple.

"Remus trusted Regulus a lot more than he trusted me," he said quietly. "He must have given these to him for safe keeping. The others used to give him a hard time for being Muggle-born – "

"You knew?" Lily demanded. "You knew he was Muggle-born?"

"Of course I did," Snape said wearily.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because it isn't my story to tell," the man snapped. "Anyway, the bullying – if you can call it that – got even worse towards the end of the war. Everyone knew there were spies in the ranks, and mudbloods – sorry, Muggle-borns – were the easiest targets. Remus must have been worried that someone would take these out of spite."

He handed the dogtags back to Tonks, shooting her a meaningful look.

"Don't lose them. I don't know why, but they mean a lot to him."

She nodded. After a moment of hesitation, she made her way to the bed. Sitting down beside Remus, she leaned over and slipped the chain over his head. She tucked the metal discs under his pajama shirt, taking the opportunity to rest her fingertips on his warm skin. His heartbeat felt fast under her palm.

"His pulse is still elevated," she murmured. Lily sighed.

"It will stay that way for a while," she said. "Until all the howlite is flushed out of his system. Then the fever will set in."

"The _fever?_ "

The healer shot Tonks a sympathetic glance.

"You might want to just… avoid this room for the next day or so. Are you sure you want him in here?"

"Yes," the young Auror said immediately. "It smells like me. That might help."

Lily nodded solemnly, then turned to her husband.

"We'll, erm… leave you alone, then. I'll give him the rest of the potion tonight."

She and James left quietly. Snape lingered. Tonks could feel his gaze on the back of her neck.

"… you really care about him, don't you?"

His tone surprised her. She glanced up and caught a flash of longing in his dark eyes before he forced his expression back to cool indifference.

"I love him."

He blinked. She expected some sort of response, but he gave her none. He cast one more unreadable glance at Remus, then turned and headed for the door. She opened her mouth.

"Thank you."

He turned back, one eyebrow raised, and she elaborated.

"For saving his life. He told me about the… the suicide attempts."

Snape stared at her for a long moment. Then he turned to face her fully.

"Until those records are unclassified, I'm the only person alive who truly knows how much he did for us. We will never be able to repay him. The least I can do is _try_."

He hesitated, eyes flickering to Remus and back again.

"Find out what he's hiding, will you? It's the only way we can save him, and I'd rather not pry it out of him."

Tonks swallowed, then nodded. Snape left the room, closing the door behind him.

Silence descended. It felt like an eon had passed since Tonks and Remus had last been alone in this room, yet she knew it had barely been an hour. Her head was spinning, still trying to catch up to the events of the last few minutes, let alone days. She looked down at the man sleeping in her bed.

"Your life is really dramatic, you know that?"

His only response was soft, even breathing. She ran the back of her fingers down his cheek, skin rasping against grey and brown stubble. Her vision swam and she fought back a lump in her throat.

"I love you," she whispered. She leaned down, resting an arm on his chest and pressing her lips to his temple. She drew a deep, shaking breath in through her nose. He smelled of sickness and potions, but there was also a hint of wood smoke and sweat that spoke of _Remus_. The scent of her own soap was new, but it was a welcome reminder that he had recently been in her shower.

"I love you," she whispered again. "No more near-death experiences, okay?"

She pressed another kiss to the line of stubble along his cheekbone. The need to be close to him suddenly overwhelmed her and she pulled back the covers, slipping into bed. She curled herself around his body, feet tangling with his as she tucked her nose under his chin. They had never been this close, yet it felt as natural as breathing.

She didn't mean to fall asleep, but it happened all the same.

* * *

Tonks awoke some time later, hot and sweaty. She blinked groggily. A violent tremor shook her body and she remembered where she was. The light filtering into the room was cold and dim, telling her that she'd been asleep for quite some time.

The fever Lily had warned her about had well and truly set in. Remus was trembling, moisture beading on his furrowed brow. His mouth was open, his chest rattling with every breath. He twitched and let out a soft moan. She tightened her arm around him, once again feeling helpless.

She lay there for several minutes, watching him as he shivered. Finally, when he let out an incoherent shout, she extricated her legs from his and crawled out of bed.

As she descended the stairs, Tonks felt a growing sense of dread. The house was quiet – _too_ quiet. It was Christmas, there should be music playing and people laughing. She poked her head into Sirius's room as she passed, but he wasn't there. Finally, as she made her way down the final flight of steps, she heard soft voices coming from the library.

"… you _sure_ , Albus?"

"I'm quite sure."

"But… _why?_ Why in Merlin's name would he do something like that?"

The large wooden door was mostly closed, the flickering light of a fire playing at the edges. Tonks paused outside, holding her breath.

"Because he had no other options. He needed test subjects, and he couldn't get them any other way."

"This is all theoretical, of course."

"… yes. Though I struggle to think of any other explanation."

"Maybe – "

"Sorry, professor," Ron's tentative voice interrupted, "but, erm… Tonks is outside."

There was a pregnant pause. Then Tonks squared her shoulders and pushed the door open. The sight that greeted her was odd, to say the least.

The library was full of people. Most of the Order of the Phoenix was there, Kingsley, Damian, Neil, Fleur, even her own mother. She counted every single one of the Weasleys, their red hair glowing in the orange light. Harry and Hermione were sitting on a sofa on either side of Ron, and Albus stood in front of the fire next to a woman Tonks had never seen before. The young Auror blinked.

"Erm… hi."

Nobody smiled. Lily pushed herself off the bookshelf she was leaning against and took a step forward.

"How is he?"

Tonks turned to her, confused apprehension swirling in her stomach.

"Erm… he's, uh…"

She glanced around at the crowd and Lily made an impatient motion with her hand.

"It's fine, Tonks. They all know he's here."

Tonks's gaze snapped back to her.

"You're putting him in danger," she hissed. "This is a hell of a lot of people to trust with his life."

"It was necessary, Miss Tonks," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying its customary quiet authority. "This has remained a secret for far too long. The more people who know about it, the better."

"What are you _talking_ about?" she demanded angrily. The old wizard opened his mouth, but Lily spoke first.

"Does he need more dreamless sleep potion?"

Tonks hesitated, examining the older woman for a long moment.

"… yes."

Lily strode briskly past her and out the door. Tonks made to follow, but Dumbledore's firm voice halted her.

"A moment, Miss Tonks."

The metamorphmagus turned slowly back to face him, not bothering to hide her anger. Dumbledore beckoned her forward.

"Please."

Everyone was staring at her. Tonks clenched her fists and stalked towards the old man.

"What do you want?"

Normally, she wouldn't dare to be so disrespectful. But this situation was putting her on edge. In the back of the room, she heard a cough that sounded remarkably like Moody trying to suppress a laugh. Dumbledore merely smiled.

"I want you to look at this book."

He gestured to the large coffee table in front of him. With one last suspicious glance at her old headmaster, Tonks looked down. A huge, leatherbound volume lay open in front of her. Its pages were ancient; yellow and crinkled with age. Flowing black script filled the pages from top to bottom. She turned back to Dumbledore.

"Okay, I looked at it. I'm going back upstairs now."

"Tonks," the old man said firmly as she began to turn away from him. "Please. I'm trying to help him."

"By telling half the wizarding world where he is!?" she snarled. "There are a lot of people in this room who would happily betray him to Crowther!"

She gestured to Marlene Mackinnon, a mousey-haired woman who was trying desperately to blend into the armchair in which she sat. Then Molly, who was sitting next to her husband, looking pale and ill. Finally, she gestured to her own mother. Andromeda Tonks glared back at her daughter.

"Nymphadora," the woman snapped, "for once in your life, _don't_ jump to conclusions."

"You think _I_ jump to conclusions?" Tonks demanded, taking a step towards her mother. " _You're_ the one who sent Remus a Howler every week of my seventh year!"

"And I was _wrong_ ," Andromeda said. "I was wrong, and I'm sorry."

Tonks blinked, her mouth open. Then she drew in a breath.

"… it's not _me_ you should be apologizing to."

The grey-haired woman inclined her head in regal acceptance.

"I know. But please, Nymphadora. Just listen."

Tonks stared at her mother for several long moments. Then she slowly turned back to the book.

"Fine," she muttered, taking a step towards it and bending down. "What exactly am I looking at?"

"This is the Book of Acceptance."

Tonks froze.

"… _what?_ "

She glanced up at Dumbledore, now thoroughly confused.

"I thought this was… locked in some tower, never to be touched by anyone other than the four Founders."

The old man shrugged nonchalantly.

"I stole it."

Tonks blinked.

"Okay."

She turned back to the book. This was something out of legend. Everyone knew it existed, but few had ever seen it. The names of every child ever admitted to Hogwarts were written in it, along with their parentage and location. Acceptance letters were sent out according to the information it contained. Despite the strange situation she found herself in, Tonks couldn't help but scan the pages with voracious curiosity.

Most of the names were written in jet black ink. A last name followed by a first, then the parents, then an address, and finally a birth date. The book was open to the spring of 1965. Tonks skimmed down the page, eyes stopping at a line that had faded to grey.

_Hawkins, Sara. Born to Peter and Joy Hawkins, Muggles. 19 Moorhead Lane, Woodbridge, Kent, KE19 BY7. 11 March 1965._

"Why's her name greyed out?" Tonks asked, pointing to it. She could hear Dumbledore shifting on his feet behind her.

"Because she either died or was deemed unfit for acceptance after her name was written."

Tonks glanced up at him, eyes narrowed.

"Unfit for acceptance?"

The old man simply nodded meaningfully at the book. Tonks could feel the tension in the room mounting. She returned to her perusal of the page, now thoroughly confused.

The names continued. A few more were greyed out. Tonks had nearly reached the end of the second page when her heart froze. She read the grey line again. Then again. Still it said the same thing.

_Exley, David J. Born to Thomas and Susan Exley, Muggles. 218 Little Horton Lane, Flat 23, Bradford BD2 1BY. 6 June 1965._

The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them.

"That's Remus."

She looked up, chest heaving. Her wide eyes met Dumbledore's calm gaze.

"That's _Remus_ ," she repeated, loudly this time. "What the _fuck_ – "

"Tonks," a deep voice said in the distance, "calm down – "

"I will _not_ calm down!" she cried, rounding on Sirius. "You were there this morning, you heard his boggart! Crowther called him _Davie_. And his dogtags, they – they belong to his _father_ – "

"I _know_ ," her cousin said, his gaze firm and unwavering. He placed his hands on her shoulders, shaking her slightly.

"I know," he repeated. "That's what we've been talking about."

Tonks stared at him for a long moment, trying to control her breathing. Then she slowly looked around at all the other people in the room. She swallowed.

"What's going on? What do you know?"

Dumbledore drew in a deep breath and she turned to him, desperate for answers. He was staring at the floor, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable.

"Thirty years ago, the packs were running rampant across Britain and Europe," he said softly. "There were dozens of attacks every month, and new werewolves were being abducted with alarming frequency. The Ministry tried to control the situation by forcing any werewolves they could into Lunar District, where the packs couldn't get at them. Wizarding parents knew to protect their children on full moon nights. Muggles, however, did not."

He sighed again, folding his long fingers together in front of him. He was wearing sky blue robes tonight and pointed blue shoes to match.

"It is not customary for werewolves to attack Muggles. Their instinct is to infect, not kill, and as Muggles invariably die when they contract lycanthropy, there is little point in biting them. Werewolves can, however, smell Muggle-born witches and wizards."

Tonks clenched her fists. She didn't like where this was going.

"Twenty-seven years ago," Dumbledore continued solemnly, "a young Beast Division employee came to my office at Hogwarts. He claimed to have spies in the packs. He said the alphas were planning to target Muggle-borns, now that new recruits were so hard to come by. He asked to see this book."

The old wizard gestured to the Book of Acceptance.

"Before a child enters Hogwarts, this is the only record we have of their existence. He wanted their locations so he could post guards around them on full-moon nights. I gave him the information he wanted, but… in some cases, his officers were unsuccessful."

He paused for a long moment. It looked like he was gathering the strength to continue. Tonks just stared at him in mute silence. He closed his eyes, then spoke.

"Six children went missing. I assumed, as everyone did, that the packs had taken them. A full investigation was carried out."

"I led it," Moody said from the back, his voice rough. "I remember the Bradford case well. It looked like David's parents put up quite a fight."

"Of course they did," Molly said, her voice oddly shrill. "Someone was trying to kidnap their boy."

"I don't understand," Tonks said, looking back at Dumbledore. "Are you saying the packs _didn't_ take him?"

The old wizard gave her a dark look. His response did not immediately answer her question.

"Over a year later, that same Beast Division employee announced the invention of several weapons designed specifically to kill and incapacitate werewolves. Crowther rolled out his aconite and silver tranquilisers to great fanfare, and the world felt a little safer. Nobody asked how he developed these weapons. Nobody wanted to know."

As if recognizing his cue, Damian stood up. He stalked over to Tonks and held out his hand. There, in his palm, lay a small, silvery dart. She glanced up at him, but his grey eyes revealed nothing. Tentatively, she picked up the dart and peered at it.

_MB/M/T/13-20kg_

Bile rose in her throat, and she was suddenly shaking. She turned accusatory eyes on the large man.

" _Thirteen kilograms?_ " she hissed. "This dart was made to kill _children_."

"Yes," he said simply. "And I think it was developed using live test subjects."

The room suddenly felt far too small, and far too hot. Tonks struggled to breathe. Dark spots swam at the corners of her vision. She felt Damian pluck the dart from her palm, and then firm hands were guiding her into an armchair.

"Breathe, love. _Breathe_."

The scent of her mother's perfume filled her nose and she grasped at the familiar comfort.

"M-mum?"

"I'm here, love. It's going to be alright."

"Why would they do that," Tonks mumbled to herself, shaking her head. "Why would they _do that?_ "

"It was necessary," Damian said grimly. "Nearly a quarter of Voldemort's army were children under the age of seventeen. They were impressionable, blind in their loyalty, and utterly fearless. These darts offered a solution."

"That's not a _solution_ ," Tonks snarled, glaring up at him through eyes that were narrowed to slits. "That's _murder_."

"Easy for you to say," the man replied, though his eyes spoke of horror. "You've never had to fight a kid who's hell-bent on killing you."

"Yes, I have."

The growl that left Tonks's mouth didn't sound like her, even to her own ears.

"Last night, in fact," she spat. "A girl tried to strangle me in Lunar District and I put a bullet through her chest."

Her mother drew in a sharp, horrified gasp beside her. But Tonks only had eyes for Damian, who was staring back at her with grim resolve.

"I will never forgive myself for what I did to her," she hissed. "And that was only _one girl_. How can you live with yourself?"

The man blinked. A vein throbbed in his temple. Then he spoke.

"By doing everything in my power to make sure we never have to fight a war like that again. I thought I was doing the right thing, helping Umbridge and Crowther. I thought Lupin was the enemy. But I was wrong."

His throat bobbed, and his fist tightened around the dart.

"I think Crowther needed kids to test his weapons on. He couldn't access any of the children in Lunar District, and he couldn't catch any of the children in the packs. So he found a way to make his own baby werewolves."

Tonks blinked up at him.

"You think Abraham Crowther purposefully infected Remus so he could experiment on him."

"Yes."

Tonks had to concentrate very hard on not being sick all over the floor.

"But… how did he end up in the Lothian pack, then? You said yourself he has their tattoos."

"We're hoping Remus can shed some light on that when he wakes up," Dumbledore said softly. "Along with why he never felt the need to _tell_ us about any of this."

"He's protecting someone."

The unfamiliar woman next to Dumbledore finally decided to make her voice heard. Tonks turned suspicious eyes on her. She was short and rail thin, wearing Muggle jeans and a green turtleneck, greying brown hair cropped close to her head and shrewd brown eyes fixed on the floor.

"Who are _you?_ "

The woman glanced up and shot her a tight smile.

"Bryony Walsh. I'm Remus's therapist."

A spluttering sound told Tonks that she had not, in fact, missed this woman's first introduction.

"Lupin has a _therapist?_ " Sirius demanded, sounding like he was on the verge of laughter. A single withering look from Dumbledore shut him up.

"As of a few weeks ago, yes."

The old wizard gestured to Bryony, and she acknowledged him with a curt nod. She suddenly looked uncomfortable under the combined focus of the entire room.

"I must confess," she said quietly, "I believe _I_ am the reason for Remus's current predicament."

"What?" Tonks demanded. "Why?"

"I knew he was Muggle-born the moment I met him," she said. "I'm a Squib, so I live in a block of Muggle flats in Edinburgh. Most wizards who come to me for therapy have a hard time navigating the buzzer system and the lifts, but he had no trouble at all. And when he walked into my flat, he didn't spend the first ten minutes staring at all the Muggle appliances. In fact, he knew exactly how to work the kettle and the toaster. He understood references that no wizard would have picked up on. For a spy, he's remarkably easy to read."

"Erm… okay," Tonks said. "Still doesn't explain why he's being hunted right now."

Bryony nodded in agreement and crossed her thin arms over her chest.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you that Remus is a very troubled young man," she said quietly. "He has been abused – mentally, physically, and emotionally – for most of his life. He doesn't trust people, he hates himself, and he is carrying around a weight of guilt that is slowly killing him."

Tonks blinked. She hadn't expected Remus's personality to be laid quite so bare in front of so many people. Bryony continued.

"It's a well-known fact that werewolves – especially those who have lived in the packs – don't often go by their birth names. Lupin is actually a rather common surname in the werewolf community, and no Muggle parent would name their child _Remus_. Naturally, I asked him for his real name."

"Bet that went down like a ton of bricks," Sirius quipped. Bryony ignored him.

"It took some serious convincing, but I finally got a first name. David. After our second session, I decided to do a bit of research."

She grimaced and ran a hand over her brow.

"I should have just left it the hell alone," she muttered. "But something just seemed… _wrong_. He was afraid of something, and it wasn't just memories of the past. It was something real, something current. I searched for the name _David_ in the Auror Office's missing person database and found Moody's report on the Exley family. I read it right there, then put it back."

Bryony sighed deeply.

"The next day, the Atrium ceiling fell and Remus was blamed for it. I was shocked, of course. And suspicious. So I went back to the database and tried to find the Exley file. But it was gone."

She looked up at Tonks, then at Dumbledore.

"I think Crowther cast an alert charm on that file. It wasn't worth the risk to try and destroy it, but once I stuck my big nose in it, he panicked. He must have found out that Remus was seeing me, and assumed that he broke his end of the deal – "

"What deal?" Tonks interjected. Bryony blinked at her.

"… erm… well, they – they knew about each other, that much is obvious. Crowther must have some sort of power over Remus – some leverage to keep him quiet."

"He could throw him in Lunar District at any moment," Ron muttered. "That's a pretty strong motivation to keep his mouth shut."

"No," Bryony said, shaking her head. "No, I don't think Remus cares enough about his personal safety for that threat to hold much weight."

Moody snorted from the back. Tonks let out an incredulous laugh.

"You know him pretty well, considering you've spent all of two hours in his presence."

"That's my job," the woman replied with a faint smile. "Anyway, I strongly suspect that Crowther has been threatening someone Remus cares about."

"Who?" James asked, crossing his arms. "Tonks?"

"No," Bryony replied, shaking her head, "though I'm sure that would have happened eventually. But this must go back to before Remus's trial. Otherwise, he surely would have mentioned it to the Wizengamot. I think Crowther is threatening his family."

There was a confused silence. Then Moody cleared his throat.

"… he doesn't have any family," he said shortly. "His parents died the night he was taken."

Tonks didn't have time to acknowledge the emotional impact of what Moody had just said. Bryony was already talking.

"But his sister didn't."

Tonks glanced between Moody and Bryony, head spinning.

"… wait… _what?_ He has a _sister?_ "

"She disappeared," Mad Eye grunted, sounding deeply unhappy. "We assumed the packs took her as well, but since she was a Muggle…"

He didn't need to finish. Tonks turned back to Dumbledore, heart pounding.

"Let me get this straight," she said, forcing her voice not to tremble. "You think that Crowther kidnapped Remus when he was a child, murdered his parents, infected him with lycanthropy, tested weapons on him, then used his sister as leverage to keep him quiet?"

Dumbledore looked paler and older than ever. His chest rose and fell in a long, deep breath. Then he nodded.

"Yes. That's exactly what I think."

Tonks blinked.

"That's _insane_."

"I agree. But given the information we know, can you honestly think of another explanation?"

Tonks mulled the question over in her mind for over a minute. She could tell that everyone else was doing the same.

"Crowther is his _boggart_ ," she finally whispered. "Out of all the terrifying people he's met, all the horrible things that have happened to him… it's _Crowther_ that he's most afraid of."

She stared at the carpet under her feet for a long moment. Then she drew in a deep breath and got to her feet.

"Excuse me," she murmured. Then she headed for the door.

"Miss Tonks," Dumbledore called after her, his voice soft and calm despite everything. "I promise I will do everything in my power to make this right."

She turned to look at him. The eyes of nearly thirty people were fixed on her. She let out a mirthless huff of laughter.

"How?" she asked, shrugging helplessly. "How do you even begin to make this right?"

The old man had no response. With a final unhappy glance, Tonks turned and left the library.

The walk back to her room felt like it took an age. The darkness of Grimmauld Place seemed to close in around her, and she could feel her breath getting faster and shallower with every step. As she finally reached the top of the first flight, the floor tilted beneath her. She teetered, and then strong arms were bearing her up.

"It's alright, lass," a gruff voice said in her ear. "It's alright."

"It's _not_ alright!" she cried, shocked to find herself sobbing as she leaned into Moody's broad chest. "Nothing about it is alright, for _fuck's sake_ – "

Wracking sobs overtook her and for several minutes she rested her whole weight on her boss, crying for all she was worth. He said nothing. He simply wrapped his arms around her and let her soak the front of his robes with bitter tears.

When she finally began to calm down, violent sobs gradually shifting to miserable hiccups, his chest rumbled as he spoke.

"Come on, let's get you up there."

He took her elbow and supported her on the way up the second flight of stairs. When they arrived at her open door, Lily looked up from a seat next to the bed. One glance at Tonks's tearstained face and she was across the room, eyes full of sympathy that the Auror didn't want.

"They told you."

Tonks didn't reply. She walked past Lily and stared down at the man in her bed. He was sleeping more peacefully now, but his face was still flushed with fever.

"How long until he's better?"

There was a pregnant pause. Then Lily spoke.

"He'll wake up sometime tomorrow morning. I don't know if _better_ is the right word for how he'll feel, but he might be through the worst of it."

Tonks nodded numbly. Then she pulled back the covers and started to crawl under them. Moody cleared his throat and Lily let out a small squeak.

"Erm… Tonks, I don't think that's a good idea."

The young Auror ignored her. She returned to her position at Remus's side, wrapping herself firmly around his shivering body. Lily continued to protest.

"He's not entirely safe right now, he might wake up and try to _kill_ you – "

"He knows my scent," Tonks stated firmly. "He won't hurt me."

"Even so, I'd rather not take the – "

"Lily."

Moody's gruff voice cut off the healer's protests. Tonks barely noticed. She was too focused on Remus's pulse.

"The lass can take care of herself," Moody said the doorway. "Let's just… leave them alone."

There was a disgruntled huff, then reluctant footsteps. Finally, the door shut with a quiet _click_. The only light in the room was the lamp beside the bed, the only sound the soft whisper of snowflakes against the window. Tonks stared at Remus's profile, tracing the line of his too-large nose with her eyes.

"No one's ever going to hurt you again," she whispered. "Not if I can help it."

Nymphadora Tonks lay awake half the night, watching Remus Lupin sleep. She finally dozed off in the early hours of the morning. She missed his eyes fluttering open, his breath catching as he realized where he was. She missed the flash of fear, followed by indecision as he tried and failed to extricate himself from her tangled limbs. She missed the adoration that slowly filled his gaze as he looked down at her. When he pressed his lips to her forehead, she murmured incoherently and tightened her grip on him. His hands were shaking, his skin crawling. But he drifted back to sleep in her arms, nose buried in her brown hair.


	11. Chapter 11

Someone, somewhere, was playing Christmas music. It drifted through her senses, distant and soothing. Light was playing across her eyelids and Tonks sighed contentedly, burrowing further into the warmth. Her alarm wasn't yelling at her yet, was it a holiday? She couldn't remember. She didn't want to get up, her pillow smelled too good. Like wood smoke and soap and someone familiar…

Her pillow drew in a rattling breath and Tonks jerked awake, eyes flying open. Faded blue fabric filled her vision. The warm body she was curled around stiffened. Slowly, she looked up.

Amber eyes met hers. Her head was on Remus's chest, and he was peering down his nose at her.

"… morning," he rasped.

His face was white and shining with sweat, eyes sunken and bloodshot. The grey at his temples was spreading, flecks of silver in his sandy hair glinting in the sunlight streaming through the window. The days without food were finally catching up to his inhuman musculature. She could feel his ribs under her arm, and his cheekbones and jaw were even more angular than usual. His right arm – which had somehow gotten trapped beneath her – was twitching, his hand trembling against her lower back. The long fingers of his left hand were splayed across his forehead, his pinky fidgeting along the ridge of his brow.

"Bloody hell," Tonks blurted out before she could stop herself. "You look awful."

He let out a huff of unamused laughter.

"Just what every man wants to hear after a woman's spent the night with him."

His gaze turned to the ceiling. A muscle was twitching in his jaw. Tonks examined him uncertainly for a moment.

"… erm… how are you feeling?"

"How do you _think_ I'm feeling?"

The words were harsh and irritated. Tonks sighed inwardly.

"Like shit, I imagine."

Remus didn't respond. A tremor ran through his torso and the bed quivered as he began to tap one foot incessantly under the covers. Tonks wondered if he had been forcing himself not to wriggle as she blithely slept on top of him.

"I really need to piss," he said sharply, "d'you mind?"

Wordlessly, she rolled off him. He threw himself out of bed with single-minded purpose, rubbing his palms against his pajama trousers as he made his way to the bathroom. Tonks stared at the ceiling, trying to plan her next move. Should she tell him what she knew? How would he react, now that at least some of his secrets had been exposed? Not very well, she imagined. And the thought of explaining it all to him frankly exhausted her. She needed at least two cups of coffee before she broached that topic.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts she didn't hear the sound of the toilet flushing, nor the tap running.

"You shouldn't be here."

Tonks blinked and looked up. Remus was hovering in the door of the bathroom, wringing a towel in his hands and shifting from one foot to the other.

"What?"

"You shouldn't _be_ here," he repeated fiercely. "I could have hurt you last night."

"You know my scent," Tonks stated with grim certainty, sitting up. "You would never hurt me."

"You don't _know_ that!" he cried, flinging the towel back in the direction of the shower. "You don't know me at _all_ , you don't know what I'm capable of! 'Specially when I'm on… _Christ_ , Dora, I could have killed you!"

Tonks drew in a long breath and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. This only served to deepen his anger.

"What, am I _annoying_ you?" he snarled. "I'm not overreacting, you were in real danger!"

"You almost _died_ , Remus," she snapped, early morning patience running thin. "Snape had to shock you back to life with a bloody _lightning bolt_. Forgive me for being human, but I really just wanted to feel your heart beating last night."

This seemed to make an impact. His mouth settled into a sullen frown and his throat bobbed, a line forming between his brows. Then he ducked his head.

"… right, well…"

He glanced around the room, as if looking for inspiration for his next words.

"… I do actually know your scent," he finally muttered, not looking at her. "You may be right, but I didn't want to put you at risk until I knew for sure."

"Well," she said firmly, "now we know."

He shot her an unhappy glare and ambled back to the bed, sinking down on the edge with his back to her. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, he began to twist his trembling hands together. She examined his tense shoulders for a moment, hesitated, then spoke.

"Can I get you something? Some food, or… I'm sure Lily has pain relief potions…"

Remus huffed mirthlessly.

"… only thing that would help right now is more howlite," he muttered, "and I have a feeling you don't have any."

"No."

"Where'd you get it anyway?"

"Beast Division. Neil Mulligan was oddly – "

"You went to _Beast Division?_ "

He turned around so suddenly it shocked her into silence. It looked like he was about to implode.

"What were you _thinking?_ " he hissed. "If Crowther had caught you – "

"You were going into cardiac arrest, what was I supposed to do?"

"My life is not worth _yours_."

"I beg to differ!"

Her retort echoed through the dusty stillness of the room. They glared at each other, neither one backing down.

"Besides," she continued sharply, "Crowther isn't about to kill an Auror, can you imagine how much paperwork he'd have to do?"

He didn't bat an eye at her attempt at humour.

"He'll do whatever he has to do to get to me."

"Why?" she demanded. "Why are you so important?"

He didn't respond for a long moment, eyes flicking between hers in brooding contemplation. She tried very hard not to look like she already knew the answer to her own question. Finally, Remus opened his mouth.

"I… know things about him," he said carefully. "Things he would rather I take to the grave. We had an agreement but… he seems to think I've broken it."

"An agreement?" she asked, also careful. "What d'you mean? Like… you'll stay quiet if he does something for you?"

His gaze wavered nervously.

"Something like that."

"What was he doing for you?"

The ex-Reaper's eyes slid down to his still shaking hands. With a weary sigh, he turned away from her again.

"… it doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does," she insisted, crawling forward and resting a tentative hand on his back. "It obviously matters a lot to you, if you were willing to keep his secret."

He just stared at the floor, head bowed. Several minutes crawled by and Tonks played with the loose threads on his shirt. The frustrated atmosphere slowly leaked out of the room, leaving exhausted silence in its wake. Finally, she snaked an arm around his waist and squeezed.

"… I love you," she said, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. He glanced at her, one incredulous eyebrow raised.

"Of all the emotions you should be throwing at me right now, love is not one of them," he grunted. "I was a right prat to you yesterday."

"You were on howlite, Remus. That wasn't _you_."

"Yes, it _was_ ," he insisted. "That creep feels more natural to me than this… _Professor Lupin_ bloke everyone keeps confusing me with."

"Just because it feels natural doesn't mean it's _you_ ," Tonks argued. "You turned your back on that life, you changed."

He snorted incredulously.

"I didn't change. I'm just really good at pretending."

"Oh really?" she challenged. "So you've been pretending this whole time? Scaring everyone out of the Atrium before the ceiling fell, helping Damian save that girl, pushing Ron out of the way when Charlie shot you, saying that you _love_ me – is that all part of some… elaborate plot to make us think you're a decent human being?"

He blinked.

"… uhh…"

She glared at him expectantly and he grimaced.

"… you lost me there. I can't handle that many words right now."

She smirked.

"Pretty sure you just proved my point."

"Did I? Good for me."

Letting out an exhausted sigh, he slumped back onto the bed, both hands covering his face.

"… 's too bright in here."

Throwing off the blankets, Tonks stumbled over to the window and pulled the curtains closed. They didn't block all the light, but it seemed to alleviate Remus's suffering.

"… mmm, 's better…"

She returned to the bed, propping herself up on one elbow beside the struggling werewolf. His eyes were closed, mouth drawn tight. His left hand spasmed violently and he drew in a pained hiss, clenching and unclenching his fingers in midair.

"I haven't missed _this_ ," he muttered to himself, rolling his wrist around on its socket. "Jesus fucking Christ…"

As the distinctly Muggle phrase left his lips, Tonks was reminded of the television shows she and her dad watched when her mum wasn't around to make fun of them. She had never put much thought into Remus's parentage before but looking back on her interactions with the man over the years, she had to wonder why she'd never pieced it together.

Remus let his hand fall back on his chest with a resigned sigh. His amber eyes opened, fixing immediately on the ceiling. Christmas music was still filtering up from two floors below and for several minutes they simply lay there in contemplative silence. Tonks found herself entranced by the dust swirling in a thin beam of golden light that had stolen past the curtains. When Remus turned to her, she saw the same light reflected in his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

She stared at him for a moment before replying.

"Remus, it was the _howlite_ – "

"No, I mean… for this morning. I didn't mean to get angry."

She paused, biting her lip.

"… 's okay," she finally whispered. "It's been a rough few days, you've a right to be angry."

"Not with you. Sounds like I owe you my life. Again."

"Well," she murmured, smiling self-consciously and reaching out to play with the buttons on his pajama shirt, "it's a life worth saving."

He captured her hand in both of his, twining his long fingers around it tightly.

"Dora?"

His voice was higher than normal, uncertain. Tonks blinked in surprise, a line forming between her brows.

"Yes?"

"Do I make you happy?"

"… w- what?"

"I want to make you happy," he said, sounding miserable, "but all I seem to do is upset you. And I don't know how to fix that."

"Remus," she laughed, finding her voice, "in case you forgot, we've been together a sum total of one week. Most of that time you've been on the run because of a crime you didn't commit. Yeah, I've been upset a lot, but that isn't a reflection on _you_."

He looked mildly relieved at this.

"Oh. Right."

She extricated her hand from his and pushed her fingers up into his growing stubble. His lips quirked as she began to stroke him.

"… I take it you like the beard?"

"Mmmhmm…"

"Shall I keep growing it out?"

"Mmm, maybe a bit. I like it this length, though. It's scruffy."

"Ah yes. Scruffy. Just the look for a fugitive werewolf."

She giggled and his eyes smiled up at her. She studied him for a long moment – long enough for him to shift under her scrutiny.

"… what?"

"Nothing. Just… looking at you."

"… okay."

She hesitated, almost choking on the question before it escaped.

"What – erm… what color were your eyes? Before…"

She didn't need to finish. He blinked.

"… my eyes?"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed obvious anxiety, and Tonks immediately backtracked.

"You don't have to answer that if you – "

"Brown," he said abruptly. "They, uh… they were brown."

She stared down at him, trying to imagine him without the golden irises that so clearly defined what he was. He looked away, turning back to the ceiling.

"Least I think they were," he said, shrugging. "My memory's a bit… unreliable."

"I quite like your eyes."

He glanced at her, an amused smirk spreading across his face.

"I know. You told me when you were four."

A blush rose to her cheeks and she glared at him, shoving his shoulder lightly.

"Yes, and now I'm telling you again."

The smirk was turning into a tired smile, and he rolled onto his side to face her. He extended a tentative finger, running it along the bare skin of her exposed forearm. The featherlight touch sent shivers down her spine and her breath caught. She knew he could hear her heart speeding up, for his smile widened into a mischievous grin.

"If I didn't know better, Miss Tonks, I'd say you have a crush on me."

"It's a bit more than a crush, _Professor_."

His eyes searched hers intently. His trailing fingers found their way to her chin and up her cheekbone, finally diving into the tangled mane of brown hair she hadn't even attempted to brush.

"'s funny," he said softly, absently, as he massaged the back of her neck with his fingers, "you actually look quite a bit like Bella when your hair's like this."

"I know," Tonks replied, grimacing. "That's why it's always some daft color. Mum's got it even worse, people used to try and hex her in the street."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she would always dye her hair so she looked different. Doesn't happen much anymore, though."

"She wasn't a bad person, you know. Bella."

Tonks raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"Remus, she tortured the Longbottoms to the point of _insanity_."

"She was sick," he said firmly, pulling his hand back and twirling a finger around above his temple. "She wasn't right in the head."

Tonks snorted.

"Yeah, you can say _that_ again."

"No – Dora, I – I watched it happen. When I first met her she was… _scared_. I could smell it on her. I wasn't old enough to really understand why she was there, but… looking back on it, I think she was probably like me. She probably didn't have a choice."

"She had a choice," Tonks growled angrily, not liking the turn this conversation had taken. "My mum chose to leave, why couldn't _she?_ "

"Because not everyone is that brave, Dora," he said, soft and calm. "Not everyone has the strength to turn their back on the only life they've ever known."

" _You_ did it."

" _I_ knew what it was like to be loved. I remembered peace, I remembered feeling safe. That gave me something to hope for, but Bella?"

He shook his head.

"Bella's family was fucked up long before Riddle came on the scene. She didn't stand a chance. Your mother must be a truly remarkable woman to have escaped that."

Tonks blinked furiously and glanced down. At some point, she had begun to pick at one of her bedraggled fingernails.

"Yeah, I… I guess she is. She, erm… she… sends her apologies, by the way."

"… what?"

"For all those Howlers."

When Tonks looked up, she was surprised to see an amused smirk spreading across the werewolf's face.

"You kidding?" he said, chuckling. "Those were _hilarious_. Your mum expanded my repertoire of insults enough so I could go toe to toe with Sev. I'm eternally in her debt."

Tonks let out an undignified guffaw.

"You used those on _Snape?_ "

Remus nodded eagerly.

"I'll never forget the look on his face the first time I called him a haggis-sucking dragon turd…"

"That insult doesn't even make sense."

"It makes total sense!"

"You can't _suck_ haggis!"

"Maybe _you_ can't, but a dragon turd can."

She descended into giggles, shaking her head at him as he grinned.

"… you're a muppet," she said, still laughing. He shrugged one shoulder.

"I know."

Her mirth slowly died away and they just lay there, smiling at each other.

"… see?" Tonks finally said, quirking an eyebrow. "You _do_ make me happy."

He blinked rapidly, throat bobbing as his smile faded. She could see deep thoughts forming behind his eyes, but she was tired of talking. So she leaned forward and kissed him.

The sudden contact drew a surprised sound from the back of his throat, and for a moment he froze. But then he melted, mouth opening to grant her tongue the access she craved. Tonks's world narrowed to his lips, his pulse, his hands. Minutes passed in a haze, calloused fingers found their way under her jumper and up, and then she was arching into him, gasping as her instincts took over.

His knee was nudging its way between her thighs, and she boldly threw her leg over his hips. He drew in a sharp breath through his teeth and she pulled back just enough to see him staring at her from centimetres away, pupils blown wide and lips swollen. She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Feels like Penny was right."

He let out a strangled chuckle as his left hand drifted further down her back.

"… _Penny?_ "

"She bet me a galleon that werewolves are… _better endowed_ than normal men."

He pulled her hips flush with his, and Tonks grinned.

"Guess I'm out a galleon."

Something halfway between a growl and a laugh left his throat and suddenly he was rolling onto his back, dragging her with him. He kissed her so fiercely that she was seeing spots in her vision by the time they surfaced for air. Tonks let out a breathless laugh and leaned her forehead against his. He chuckled as well, thumbs massaging her hips.

"… d'you…"

She trailed off, suddenly feeling shy. He cupped her face with one large hand and began placing soft, almost reverent kisses to her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, her lips…

"I must say," he growled, leaning back and drinking her in, "you're quite an effective distraction from withdrawal. If you'd been around the first time, I might have actually been able to do it on my own."

She blushed, smiling uncertainly at him.

"D'you… want your Christmas present?"

He blinked up at her. His adam's apple slid down his throat and back up again, grey and brown stubble shifting around its path.

"Is…" he cleared his throat, "… is that what _you_ want?"

She didn't trust herself to speak, so she just nodded and ran her thumb along the line of his jaw. His eyes searched hers for a moment longer, then his lips twitched into a small, awestruck smile.

"… just to be sure," he said tentatively, "this, erm… this wouldn't be… well, a – a one-time thing, would it?"

She smirked.

" _No_ , Mr. Lupin. Fact, I'll be quite annoyed with you if it _is_ a one-time thing."

He laughed, sounding relieved.

"Good," he said, running his fingers through her hair. "I could really get used to waking up next to you."

She didn't get a chance to respond. He pulled her down to him and captured her lips in a heated, messy kiss. Smiling into his mouth, she shifted until she was straddling him. When he suddenly sat up, carrying her with him, she let out an undignified squeak. Then he was pulling the jumper over her head and running warm, calloused hands down the bare skin of her back.

When they paused for breath several minutes later, Remus's hair was mussed and sticking on end where she had been pulling at it. Tonks imagined she looked just as disheveled. His gaze flickered up and he smiled.

"… you're pink again."

Tonks blinked, then reached a hand up to her scalp. Pulling a strand of short, hot pink hair into view, she let out a joyous laugh.

"No more Bellatrix hair!"

The words sobered him for a moment and he reached up, trembling fingers running gently through the pink locks.

"Dora… you're _beautiful_. No matter what you look like."

From any other man's lips, it would have sounded cheesy. But Tonks found herself blinking tears out of her eyes. She turned fierce attention to the buttons on the front of his pyjama shirt.

"You're wearing far too many clothes, Mr. Lupin," she whispered. He chuckled.

"I'm sure you can help with that, Miss Tonks."

A pleasant shiver ran down her spine at the growled words. She pushed the shirt off his shoulders and ran greedy hands down his neck and over his chest. Warm skin and raised scar tissue and fine, curly hair rasped against her palms and she shifted closer, wanting all of him. Their lips met again, full of feverish anticipation.

But then he was pulling away with a gasp. She whimpered at the loss of contact, but it didn't take long to figure out what was wrong.

Her fingers had found their way to his dogtags. Her caresses had tugged on them, and Remus was now looking down, a line forming between his eyebrows.

"… what – "

"I found them in your pocket," she whispered before he could finish the question. "I didn't want you to lose them."

He stared down at the dogtags for a moment longer. Then his eyes rose to hers, wide and lost. His swollen lips were partially open, ready to form words that never came. Tonks drew in a long breath and let it out again, silently cursing their luck.

"Remus… it's okay."

He just blinked at her. She stared back, torn between telling him everything and just kissing him again. She vastly preferred the second option.

"You don't have to explain anything," she said softly, gently, as though speaking to a spooked dragon. "We don't have to talk about it."

"They were my father's."

The words seemed to tumble from his mouth against his will. After they were out in the open, his eyes widened and he drew in a sharp breath. Tonks watched him carefully. His gaze wavered and he hesitated before continuing.

"… I, uh… I gave them to Regulus towards the end of the war. Just to keep them safe. He died a few weeks later and I… I didn't know where he put them."

He was quivering under her hands. Tonks drew in another calming breath.

"Okay."

Remus blinked rapidly and looked away. His hands were clammy on her bare skin.

"Your father…" she began tentatively, "… was he a soldier?"

He didn't ask how she knew what the dogtags represented. He simply nodded, gaze fixed somewhere over her right elbow.

"He was in Vietnam. He was a helicopter pilot."

There was a note of pride in his voice. His chin lifted a bit. Tonks wanted to smile, but she couldn't.

"What's a helicopter?"

To her surprise, he laughed and turned back to her.

"It's, erm…"

He removed a hand from her waist and made a circle in midair with his finger.

"Y'know, those… those Muggle aircraft with the spinny blade."

She blinked, contemplating this description.

"… _oh_ , you mean that thing that Magnum's mate flies?"

He snorted.

"Yes. And the fact that you watch Magnum makes me love you even more, if that's possible."

She smiled.

"My dad's taste in television errs on the ancient side."

"Magnum's not ancient!" he protested, laughing. "It's, what, ten years old?"

She raised a sardonic brow and he rolled his eyes.

"One day that won't seem like much time," he promised her.

"Alright, Methuselah."

With an amused growl, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over, settling firmly on top of her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, relishing the sensation of his bare skin pressed against hers. He was still smiling, mouth open to deliver a witty retort. But then the dogtags swung down between them like a pendulum. The words died in his throat, and she saw the fear return to his eyes.

She reached up and twisted the tags to face her. She knew what they said, but she made a show of reading them again.

"What does the J stand for?"

"… Josiah."

At her bewildered look, he grimaced.

"My grandparents were very religious. That's my middle name, too."

"Remus Josiah Lupin. Has a nice ring to it."

He let out a surprised snigger.

"… Dora – "

She locked eyes with him and he paused, expression thoughtful. He opened his mouth.

"David. My name is David."

The lump that rose in her throat made it impossible for her to speak for nearly a minute. He just stared down at her, gaze steady and patient. Finally, the lump cleared enough to allow speech.

"… David Josiah Exley. Nice to meet you."

The corner of his mouth quirked in the barest hint of a shaky smile. He let out a huff of nervous laughter.

"… I, erm…"

He blinked rapidly, brow furrowing as he glanced down at the dogtags then back up at her.

"… I never thought I'd hear that name again."

She didn't know how to respond. The silence stretched on as he continued to examine her. Finally, she cleared her throat.

"When we first met, you told me you didn't have a name."

He blinked.

"Why did you say that? Sounds like you have _two_."

He contemplated the question for a long time. Finally, he drew in a deep breath.

"David Exley was a terrified little boy, and Remus Lupin was a bloodthirsty monster. When you met me, I didn't want to be either one of those people."

"… and now?"

He huffed, mouth working soundlessly as his gaze flickered away from her. He shook his head.

"I go by Remus because it's safer. It doesn't raise any… unwanted questions."

Tonks waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't.

"… okay. What do you want _me_ to call you?"

He blinked in surprise.

"Erm…" he trailed off, looking bewildered. "I… never really thought about it."

"Obviously," she said with an affectionate eye roll. "But now you have the option. Which would you prefer, Remus or David?"

Another long silence. Then –

"David."

She smiled.

"Okay. David."

She stretched up and deposited a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. He returned it, but barely. When she pulled away, he still looked troubled.

"Dora, you – you can't tell anyone."

She sighed inwardly and braced herself for the coming explosion.

"David… they already know."

He stiffened, and not in a good way. His eyes took on a familiar, hunted quality.

"What?"

She grimaced and ran what she hoped was a calming hand down the side of his face.

"James, Lily and Snape were here when I found your dogtags. They saw them, too. And Sirius heard your boggart call you Davie. I'm sorry, but… everyone knows who you are. And we have a pretty good idea what happened to you."

He stared blankly at her for several painful seconds. Then he abruptly pushed himself up and off her. It wasn't unexpected, but she mourned the loss of contact all the same. He retreated to the end of the bed, sitting back on his heels and fixing her with a piercing gaze.

"So… you _knew_ already," he said quietly. His voice hummed with suppressed rage. Slowly, unhappily, Tonks nodded. She pulled the covers up over her bare chest, suddenly feeling very exposed.

"And you just let me spill my guts?"

Remus – _David_ , she reminded herself firmly – sounded angry and defensive. But most of all, he sounded hurt.

"I didn't know you were going to tell me," she said, trying to remain calm. "When you started talking about it, I… wanted to know if you trusted me enough to tell the truth."

"Yeah, well, I _did_ ," he snarled. She flinched at the past tense.

"David, please – "

" _Don't_ ," he hissed, extricating himself from the blankets and stumbling to his feet. His whole body was trembling, his hands shaking like leaves in autumn. He stalked over to the window and grabbed his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Then he pulled off the pajamas and grabbed his jeans. Tonks barely had time to appreciate the pronounced muscles on his legs and backside before they were covered once again.

"What are you doing?" she asked, feeling numb.

"What I should have done yesterday," he grunted, not looking at her as he began to pull his boots on over bare feet. "Leaving."

"No – " she stammered, tripping out of bed and dropping her shield of blankets, "Remus, don't do this. We want to _help_ – "

" _We?!_ " he practically shouted. "Who's _we?_ Who else knows?"

She couldn't respond in the face of his ire. He got to his feet and grabbed her upper arms, shaking her.

"D'you have any idea how much danger you're in?" he cried desperately. "What _exactly_ do you know about me?"

He was glaring expectantly at her and Tonks forced herself to answer.

"… we know you're Muggle-born, and that Crowther got your name and address out of the Book of Acceptance. We know he kidnapped you, and… and Damian thinks he infected you so he could run experiments – "

"Stop. Just… _stop_."

The ex-Reaper was deathly pale. Tonks knew she was going to have bruises on her arms in the shape of his fingers. He bent his head closer to her.

"If you care about me at all, you will never speak of this again. And you'll make sure no one _else_ does, either."

"Why?" she demanded. "Why are you letting him get away with it?"

"Because I don't have a _choice!_ " he bellowed, shaking her again. "I don't have any proof, and even if I _did_ – "

He cut himself off abruptly, nostrils flared as he took deep, angry breaths. Tonks screwed up her courage.

"He would kill your sister, wouldn't he?"

Nothing but cold rage answered her question. His eyes were those of a stranger as he shoved her away from him. Then he was striding across the room and yanking open the door. Tonks scrambled to pull on her jumper, barely noticing that it was inside out before she launched after him.

"We can _help_ you!" she cried at his retreating back. "Please, Remus, just _listen_."

He clattered down the stairs, steely silence in his wake.

"You don't have to be alone," she pleaded. "I love you, I want to help – "

"You can't _help_ , Tonks!" he shouted over his shoulder. "I don't want you involved in this."

"Hate to break it to you, but I already am! You think I'm just going to stand by while he threatens someone you care about?"

"If you get involved," he hissed, turning around so abruptly she ran into him at the top of the last flight of stairs, "he will start threatening you, too. Then I'll have no choice but to _kill_ him, and there will be reprisals in Lunar District that your sorry excuse for a government will do nothing to prevent. It will be war all over again, Dora. Is that what you want?"

When she couldn't respond in any way other than stunned silence, he turned and continued down the stairs. She watched his back get further and further away, then let out a choked sob.

" _Stop –_ "

She started after him, but her feet – as they so often did – rebelled. Her toe caught on a loose bit of floorboard and she catapulted forward. Instinctively, she let her body go limp. This was not the first flight of stairs she had tumbled down headfirst. She braced herself for an impact that never came.

Strong arms caught her before she hit the first step. The smell of wood smoke filled her nostrils and Remus returned her to her feet. She clung to him, hands bunching in his t-shirt.

"Don't go," she sobbed. "Please don't go. They'll _kill_ you."

She looked up at him through the tears, bracing herself for the anger she knew would still be there. Instead, she found a hint of the tenderness he had so recently abandoned. His amber eyes drank her in, one thumb coming up to caress her cheek. Then he was kissing her, and she could _feel_ the goodbye.

He turned away abruptly, leaving her swaying at the top of the stairs. A distant part of Tonks's mind registered that there were other people in the entrance hall below, but she had eyes only for Remus.

"Where are you _going?_ " she cried after him, choking on the words. He didn't respond. He clattered down the stairs and strode swiftly towards the door, passing a crowd of shocked Weasleys without a glance. Sirius watched him go, gaze hard and unreadable. James and Lily stood at the door of the kitchen, worried but helpless. Tonks searched desperately for Snape. If anyone could talk sense into the enraged werewolf, it would be him.

Remus was almost at the door when a tall, misshapen man stumped firmly into his path. Alastor Moody stared the younger man down with both his normal and magical eyes. The ex-Reaper grudgingly came to a stop, fists clenching and shoulders tensing.

"Get out of my way."

Moody blinked impassively.

"Tonks asked you a question, lad. Didn't you hear her?"

Remus tried to sidestep the stubborn old Auror. Moody deftly blocked him.

"Get out of my _way!_ "

"Not a chance," the grizzled man quipped, almost enjoying himself. "I know that look. You're spoiling for a fight, and you're hoping that someone will finally beat you."

"Stop acting like you know me!"

Remus was in the man's face now, pale and shaking with rage.

"And stop acting like you _care!_ "

He reached up and physically pushed the old man. But Moody proved remarkably difficult to budge.

"You're not leaving, David. Not like - "

" _Don't call me that!_ "

The scream that burst from Remus's mouth was broken, borne of desperation and fury. He pushed Moody harder – so hard that the old man flew backwards and hit the door with a sickening _thud_.

Stunned silence filled the hallway. Moody lost his balance and slid to the floor, coming to a rather ungraceful stop with his wooden leg splayed out in front of him. For a moment, the only sound was Remus's harsh breathing. He had his back to everyone but Moody, but Tonks could see him look down at his shaking hands.

" _Fuck_ ," he finally hissed. "Oh fuck – "

He stumbled forward, reaching towards the old man on the floor. But Moody batted the help away as he pushed himself painfully back to his feet. The grizzled Auror raised mismatched eyes to Remus, scarred mouth set in a grim line.

"Go on, then," he growled, jerking his chin. Remus took an uncertain step backwards.

"… w- what?"

"Go on," Moody repeated belligerently. "Hit me again."

Another stunned silence. Then –

"Hit me _again_ , I said! Harder!"

The barked words made Remus flinch.

" _No_ ," he choked, shaking his head. "No, I – I don't – "

"Hit me as many times as you fucking want to, boy!" the veteran Auror shouted. "I'll still be here when you're done!"

But Remus was backing away, hands held up in surrender.

"No, Moody, I – I'm _sorry_ , I didn't mean to…"

He trailed off, glancing around at the onlookers. He was visibly trembling. Tonks hurried down the rest of the stairs and he turned to her, eyes wide and lost.

"… I didn't mean to hurt him," he said, voice breaking on the words. She didn't know what to say, but Moody did.

"You think I'm made of _glass_ , boy?" he grumbled, stomping forward. He grabbed the werewolf's wrists and pulled his hands back down. "I'm fine. It's _you_ they're worried about."

Remus turned his confused gaze to Moody and the old man grimaced.

"Look, just… come eat something, will you?"

He tried to steer the younger man into the kitchen, but Remus ducked out of his grasp.

"No, I – I really have to go."

"There are four WCU officers watching that door right now," Moody grunted, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "You won't even make it down the steps."

"Then let me use the floo."

"So you can go _where_ , exactly? Last I checked, you didn't have an overabundance of friends."

The werewolf flinched and Moody's gaze flickered.

"Black," he said gruffly, turning to the man hovering in the kitchen doorway, "get him some water, will you?"

Sirius nodded and disappeared, slippers flapping against the flagstones. Moody looked back at Remus.

"Are you okay?"

The werewolf shot him an incredulous glance from under his eyebrows and the old man snorted.

"Aye, dumb question."

Slowly, carefully, he reached out a scarred hand and gripped the werewolf's shoulder. To Tonks's surprise, Remus actually leaned into the steadying grasp. He drew in a shaking breath, closing his eyes tightly before letting it out.

"Lad," Moody said firmly, "I know you're scared, and I know you're angry. You have a right to be. But we _already know_. Running away isn't going to keep us safe anymore."

The werewolf's brow furrowed, and he brought one hand up to cover his eyes. His breathing was unsteady, gasping, and Tonks's heart clenched. He was trying very hard not to cry.

"… 'm sorry," he finally choked out. "I didn't… I just… I don't want anyone else to die because of me."

Moody's hand shifted so it was gripping the back of the young man's neck.

"If anyone dies, lad, it _won't_ be because of you."

But Remus was shaking his head, losing the battle with tears.

"If – if I… _s-say_ anything, he'll – he'll fuckin' – he'll kill her, he'll… and I – I can't protect her, I dunno where she is, I don't _know_ – "

With a muffled curse, Moody reached forward and yanked the young man into his arms. Remus folded into him, clutching at the Auror's robes with white-knuckled hands as he sobbed.

"… sh- she's already d-dead, I – I know she is, he… he wouldn'tve – "

"Shhh, lad," the old man murmured, laying a large hand on the back of Remus's head. "Shhh, it's alright. We'll find her, Albus and the others are already looking."

"… w-what?"

Remus pushed himself away from the Auror, tearstained face drawn with fear and confusion. Moody grasped his shoulders tightly.

"I promise you, they will find Amy. One way or the other, they will _find_ her."

The werewolf stared at him through bloodshot eyes. Then he drew in a rattling breath.

"… how d'you… how d'you know her name?"

Moody's lips pulled into a thin line.

"I investigated your disappearance twenty-seven years ago. I know a lot about you."

"… oh."

Sirius was back with a glass of water. He held it out to Remus with an awkward attempt at a smile. The werewolf stared blankly at him for a second before raising a trembling hand and accepting it. He drank, allowing everyone a bit of emotional breathing room. He only managed half the glass, coughing as he wiped his mouth. Moody's hand quickly shifted to the werewolf's elbow as he swayed on his feet.

"Easy there, lad. You're alright."

The werewolf was shaking too much to keep hold of the glass. Sirius took it back, levitating it into the kitchen with a wave of his wand.

"Where are they looking?" Remus asked suddenly. "I've looked _everywhere_ – all over Yorkshire, she – she'd be almost forty now, blonde, erm… taller than me – "

" _Taller_ than you?" Sirius repeated, chuckling. "Last time you saw her you were _six_ , mate. Everyone was taller than you."

Remus shot the man an annoyed glare, but it slowly softened as he realized the truth of his words.

"Yeah, alright," he muttered with a huff of weary laughter. "She, uh… I have no idea how tall she is now."

"Albus has a few strands of your hair," Moody said calmly. "He's with Madam Pomfrey, casting familial spells on all the Hogwarts records."

The werewolf blinked, brow knitting together.

"But… she's a _Muggle_."

"Magic runs in the family, David. Even in Muggle families. If your sister has any children, one of them might very well be at Hogwarts."

The idea had clearly never occurred to Remus. He stared, open-mouthed, at the old man. Moody squeezed his arm.

"And if that doesn't work, we have a few more tricks up our sleeve. Crowther probably wiped her memory and changed her name, but we might be able to find someone in Bradford who knows what happened to her."

The werewolf shook his head.

"No, they… I went back. After… before I joined the Lothians. I went back to look for her, but… nobody remembered her. They didn't remember me, either, or…"

He trailed off, grimacing. A muscle twitched in Moody's jaw.

"Well," he said, and Tonks could hear the fury he was holding back, "good thing we know an expert in memory charm reversal."

"… we do?"

"Marlene Mackinnon. She went to Bradford with Kingsley."

A bark of harsh laughter forced its way out of Remus's throat. He stared incredulously at Moody.

"Marlene _Mackinnon?_ " he repeated. "Why on earth would she help _me_?"

"Don't play dumb, lad. You prolonged their torture. If it weren't for you, Dolohov and Travers would have killed the whole family before we arrived. Snape said you got an hour under the Cruciatus for not finishing them off when you had the chance."

The flinch that answered these words was confirmation enough. Remus crossed his arms over his chest and fixed his gaze on the cold flagstones. Sirius and Moody exchanged a glance.

"Come on, mate," the black-haired Auror said gently, grasping the werewolf's elbow. "Let's get you over by the fire. D'you want some coffee? Toast, maybe?"

Remus raised bloodshot, weary eyes to the older man. For a long moment, he simply examined him. Sirius looked back, gaze open and steady. Finally, the werewolf's throat bobbed, and he nodded.

"Yeah, alright."

He finally allowed himself to be guided into the kitchen, Moody and Sirius on either side of him. James and Lily bustled in ahead of them and the Weasleys filed after, expressions ranging from worried to belligerent. Now that she was actually paying attention, Tonks was surprised to see a flash of blonde amidst the red.

"Tonks!"

Fleur Delacour came to meet her at the base of the stairs. Ethereally beautiful as always, the quarter veela's perfect skin seemed to glow in the dingy light of the hallway. Despite the situation, Tonks couldn't help but smile. Fleur would look lovely at the bottom of a barrel of flobberworms.

"Wotcher, Fleur."

The pink-haired Auror suddenly found herself wrapped in a tight embrace. She let out a surprised squeak. She and Fleur were friends, but not terribly close ones. They were not at the point where impromptu hugs were expected. Yet Tonks's arms returned the hug fiercely, and as she buried her face in the taller woman's shoulder, the tension coiling in her heart seemed to loosen a bit.

" _Tu vas bien?_ "

She never should have told Fleur she took French lessons as a child. The tutelage had been one of her mother's desperate attempts to instill some level of finesse in her wayward child. It had been woefully unsuccessful.

"Erm… _oui, ça va_."

Fleur pulled away and grabbed her shoulders, examining her shrewdly.

"We saw you," she said in heavily accented English. "You and Lupin, at the top of the stairs."

Tonks winced. How embarrassing.

"You love each other."

With Fleur, it was always about love. Tonks shrugged, swallowing back a lump in her throat.

"Yeah."

"He is a good man. He deserves you."

Tonks didn't ask how Fleur had arrived at that opinion. There was a hard glint in her normally sparkling blue eyes.

"He _is_ a good man," she agreed. "He's… angry with me right now, though."

" _Bah_ ," the woman scoffed, waving the concern away. "He will get over it."

Her lips quirked into a mischievous smile, dark red lipstick accentuating the movement. She leaned in.

"I have dated several werewolves," she whispered conspiratorially. "They are… what is the word – _insatiable_."

Thank Merlin for those French words that were just English with a strange accent. Tonks burst out laughing.

"Really?"

"Yes," Fleur said, grinning. "I could give you some advice, if you want."

"… advice?"

"You know. How best to pleasure – "

"Oh Merlin," Tonks cut her off, giggling. "I dunno if I'm up for this, Fleur. We haven't even…"

She trailed off, blushing fiercely. Fleur goggled at her.

"You have not slept with him?"

Tonks shrugged helplessly.

"We, uh… we were heading that way this morning, but…"

The quarter veela crossed her arms, looking thoughtful.

"They are talking about moving him to the Burrow," she said. "It will be harder for you to be… _private_ there."

"Erm…"

Tonks considered telling her friend that the logistics of when she and Remus could have sex were not foremost in her mind right now, but realized that the sentiment would fall on deaf ears. The blonde woman was clearly formulating a plan.

"Leave it to Auntie Fleur," she whispered, smiling. "You will have your privacy."

Despite the awkwardness of it all, Tonks felt a swell of affectionate gratitude. She smiled back.

"Thanks, mate. I, uh… I owe you one."

"No," the young woman said shortly, suddenly serious. "You don't."

Tonks blinked. But before she could ask any questions, Sirius stuck his head back into the hallway.

"You two coming?"

With one last wry glance at each other, the two women followed him into the kitchen. Remus was already seated in one of the armchairs next to the fire, looking exceedingly uncomfortable as Lily and Molly fawned over him. The redheads were plying him with toast and coffee whilst James was busy frying up some eggs on the hob. Molly bustled over with a plate full of mince pies and set it down on the table next to the pale werewolf.

"You're looking frightfully thin, dear," she said brusquely, not looking at him. "Do you like aubergine? I was thinking of making aubergine casserole tonight."

The expression on Remus's face would have been comical if he hadn't looked so ill. He gaped up at the Weasley matriarch, brow knitted in bemused confusion. She finally met his eyes, shifting uncomfortably on her feet in front of him.

"I could also make a vegetarian shepards pie, or a curry or something."

He blinked.

"… erm…" his mouth opened and closed wordlessly for several seconds. "It, uh… I – I don't care. Anything is fine."

Molly nodded shortly then turned away, looking relieved to be done with the encounter. Remus stared after her, still confused. Then Lily entered his line of sight. She had her wand out, and he shrank backwards into the armchair, coffee sloshing over the side of his mug and onto his lap.

"Oy – "

"I'm just checking your vitals, David," the healer said brusquely, waving her wand in a complicated pattern in front of him. "Severus is getting me supplies from Knockturn Alley, there's probably still time to add a few potions to the list if we need to."

It was her turn to be examined by bewildered golden eyes. Remus swallowed, coughed, then spoke.

"My, uh…"

He glanced around uncertainly, eyes finally landing on Tonks. He stared at her for a long moment, then seemed to come to a decision.

"… my family used to call me Davie."

All movement in the kitchen stilled. Even James stopped poking at the pan of eggs. Everyone turned to look at the uncomfortable werewolf. Then Lily broke the silence.

"Alright then, Davie. Can you lift your shirt for me?"

He put his coffee down and complied, not looking at anyone. He was biting his lip, eyes fixed on the floor as Lily crouched down and ran a gentle hand along his pronounced ribs. She drew in a deep breath and let it out.

"You've really done a number on yourself," she said quietly, pulling his shirt back down. "You can't do any more wandless magic, d'you hear me?"

His gaze flickered, and he nodded mutely. Her lips pulled into a thin line.

"I really mean it this time. Your reserves are shot. Albus is getting a wand for you."

Remus grimaced.

"… fucking hate wands."

"I know. But this one will actually be _yours_."

"… what d'you mean?"

"He's bringing Ollivander here. No more wands borrowed off Azkaban prisoners."

The werewolf blinked, then tilted his head.

"But… but I can't _afford_ – "

" _You're_ not buying it," Lily said brusquely, getting to her feet. "We are. And don't you dare try to argue."

"But – "

"Speaking of which," she said fiercely, crossing her arms and glaring down at the man, "Severus told us about the wolfsbane."

Remus winced and shrank back into the depths of his armchair.

"… oh."

" _Oh_ is right. We could have helped, you know."

"I don't want _charity_."

"And yet you hand it out anonymously. How many doses do you pay for every month?"

He shrugged, fingers fidgeting in his lap. He suddenly looked very small.

"I dunno. Sev could tell you, he's the one who actually brews it."

"He said you wouldn't let him pay for any of the ingredients."

"It's not his responsibility. I'm the one who bit those people, the least I can do is get them out of Lunar District."

There was a short silence. Lily glared at her patient. Then, suddenly, she crouched down again and grabbed his knee. He jerked his head up to look at her, eyes wary.

"Your parents would be very proud of you, you know."

He stared at her for a moment. Then he let out a huff of mirthless laughter and looked back down at his hands.

"My mum was a peace studies professor," he muttered. "She protested the Vietnam War even while my dad was fighting in it. I don't think she'd be all that proud of me."

Lily had no response to that. Her lips tightened unhappily, and after a moment she stood up, walking stiffly over to her husband.

Murmured conversations began to break out in the kitchen as the tension broke. Tonks glanced around, noting the conspicuous absence of Harry and Hermione. Ron was sitting beside Fred and George at the long table, shooting worried glances at the older werewolf. Fleur was in a corner with Bill, whispering fiercely. The eldest Weasley boy looked amused and Tonks turned away, blushing. She hesitated, then made her way towards the fire.

Remus looked up as she approached, amber eyes uncertain. He examined her for a long moment and she stared back, gaze unwavering. He swallowed.

"I, erm…"

He grimaced, then abruptly held up a trembling hand. His breathing was unsteady again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, eyes shining. "Dora, I – I'm _sorry_ – "

In an instant, she was in his lap, legs curled up and arms around his shoulders. He crushed her to his chest and she pressed her lips to his temple, nose buried in his hair.

"'m sorry, 'm sorry," he gasped into her shoulder, over and over again. She held him tighter.

"It's okay," she whispered. "It's okay, Remus. I'm right here."

His breath caught. Slowly, he extricated his face from her jumper. He was a complete mess, eyes swollen and bloodshot, cheeks wet with tears, hair sticking on end. His throat bobbed and he drew in a shaking breath.

"… that, erm… that's not my name."

Her lips quirked. She stroked his beard with her thumb.

"Davie," she breathed, pushing strands of greying hair out of his eyes, "please stop running away from me."

His breath hitched and he raised a hand to cup her face, leaning in to rest his forehead against hers.

"I promise," he whispered fiercely, eyes closed. "No more running. No more running."

They sat there in silence for several minutes, their breaths instinctively matching as the familiar sounds of morning continued around them. Tonks breathed in and out with him, eyes closed, concentrating on his pulse beneath her fingers. Plates clattered on the counter and the kettle sang briefly as someone made tea. Soft, calm voices mixed with the ever-present Christmas music warbling from the broken speaker on the mantle. Finally, Tonks slid her arms around Davie's neck and sank her nose into his hair. He clung to her.

"… I love you," he whispered brokenly. "'m sorry I'm such a wreck."

She chuckled and pressed her lips to the side of his head.

"You may be a wreck," she admitted, "but you're _my_ wreck."

She leaned back, meeting his miserable eyes firmly.

"We're going to get through this," she promised him. "We're going to clear your name and put that bastard in Azkaban where he belongs. Then we're going to take a long holiday, just you and me. Sound good?"

His lips quirked into a half smile and he nodded.

"… sounds brilliant. Where d'you want to go?"

She shrugged.

"Doesn't matter. You have any ideas?"

He considered it for a moment.

"I've always wanted to go to New Zealand."

"New Zealand," she repeated wryly. "The furthest you can possibly get from England."

"That's just a bonus," he said, half smile turning into a whole one. "I've seen pictures, it looks bloody amazing."

"Alright. I'm sold. New Zealand it is."

She wound her arms around his neck again. He was calming down, his body no longer trembling. His chest rose and fell in steady breaths and she closed her eyes, savoring the hard-won peace.


	12. Chapter 12

"Hate to interrupt, but…"

Tonks slowly extricated her face from David's shoulder. James was standing in front of them, a plate of scrambled eggs in each hand. He looked genuinely apologetic.

"I can just – "

He started to put them on the tiny side table, but Tonks stopped him.

"No, it – it's okay. We can…"

She turned to the werewolf trapped beneath her.

"Can we move to the table, love?"

He blinked blearily, then nodded. She clambered to her feet and took the plates from James.

"Thanks, mate."

She walked to the large wooden table in the center of the room and sat down next to Arthur. The redhead shot her a thin smile, which she returned weakly. Summoning two forks, she turned to give one to David. But he wasn't there.

Tonks looked back to find him still in the armchair, bent forward with his elbows braced on his knees. His eyes were closed, fingers laced together, chin resting upon them. His shoulders rose and fell in deep, slow breaths.

"… Remus?"

He didn't respond. Tonks left her seat and returned to the werewolf, crouching down in front of him.

"Re - "

She cut herself off. That wasn't his name.

"… Davie? Love?"

She rested a hand on his knee and his eyes snapped open, amber eyes focusing on her. For a moment they just stared at each other.

"Sorry," he said abruptly, shaking himself. "Just… trying to get my head straight."

She tightened her grip on his bony knee.

"That'll be easier with some food in your stomach."

His gaze flickered, then he nodded.

"… yeah, erm…" he started to push himself out of the armchair, "yeah, I'm coming."

He was unsteady on his feet, and Tonks wrapped an arm around his waist. Tremors were wracking his body, withdrawal still taking its toll. Charlie leapt up from the table and started forward, one hand reaching for the swaying werewolf.

"Here, let me – "

But David swatted him away like a troublesome fly, turning slightly so his body was between the young man and Tonks. Charlie took a step back, a mixture of anger and embarrassment contorting his features.

"I'm just trying to _help_."

"You've helped enough," the werewolf snarled.

"I didn't _know_ , alright?" Charlie snapped. "I didn't know you were Muggle-born, I thought – "

"You put your own brother in danger."

"It wouldn't have hurt him!"

"Aconite isn't a walk in the park, even when it _is_ the right dose," David hissed, taking a threatening step forward. "And I didn't trust your ability to load that thing properly. You wouldn't be the first sorry bastard to leave a bullet or a silver trank in the chamber."

Charlie's mouth shut abruptly. There was a long, painful silence. Then Ron's voice sounded from the table.

"Professor… why did you push me out of the way?"

David made an exasperated noise in the back of his throat.

"That's a remarkably stupid question."

He turned and stalked to the table without another word. His knees gave out as he got there, and he collapsed rather ungracefully into a chair. Ignoring the stares he was receiving, he grabbed his fork and stabbed a chunk of scrambled eggs.

Tonks followed, sinking down beside him. His face was pale, eyes hard. He ate slowly, mechanically, like it was work. Nearly a minute passed before he looked up again, glancing angrily around the room.

"Surely you have better things to do than watch me _eat_ ," he snapped. Everyone started at this, as though caught with their hands in the biscuit tin. A forced discussion about the Chudley Cannons stuttered back to life. Tonks lifted her own fork, watching David's profile carefully.

"Never a dull moment with you," she remarked, "is there?"

He huffed, eyes fixed on his breakfast.

"Used to be a lot of dull moments," he replied around a mouthful of egg. "My life was surprisingly predictable before you invited me for that drink."

" _She_ asked _you_ out?"

Fleur sounded shocked, and a tad gleeful. Both Tonks and David looked across the table at her.

"… who the fuck are you?"

The young woman didn't look the least bit insulted by the werewolf's impolite question. She shot him a smile worthy of her veela grandmother and Tonks struggled not to roll her eyes. She knew Fleur was not trying to win David's affections, but it seemed that _flirting_ was her default setting.

"Fleur Delacour," she said demurely, stretching out a petite hand. "Pleased to meet you."

The werewolf examined the hand for a moment before reaching out and shaking it. His eyes flickered up to hers, then over at Bill, who was sitting beside her with a small smile on his face.

"You too."

Social niceties dutifully observed, David turned his attention back to his plate. Fleur looked rather bemused by this uncharacteristic lack of interest.

"… so… Tonks asked you out?"

The pair in question exchanged a rueful glance.

"Not ex – "

"Yes," Tonks said firmly, smirking as her eyes dared him to argue. "I did."

He ducked his head, cheeks flushing and lips twitching at the corners. Tonks grinned and reached out to tangle her fingers with his.

"In fact," she said, thoroughly enjoying the sight of his ears turning red, "I wish I'd asked him out a lot earlier."

His calloused fingers tightened around hers and he raised an eyebrow in her direction.

"Not _too_ much earlier, I hope."

She shrugged, grin turning cheeky.

"What can I say? I have a thing for professors."

He laughed and she brought his hand to her lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of it. When she released him, he brushed his thumb over her chin, rough knuckles ghosting along the line of her jaw. Amber eyes fell to her lips, and Tonks wished they were alone.

A discreetly cleared throat brought them back to earth. Tonks blinked and turned to find Bill and Fleur smirking at them from across the table.

"You two need to…" Bill glanced between them knowingly, "get a room?"

"Sod off," Tonks said, and it was her turn to blush. She morphed to cover it, stomach fluttering as David pressed his leg firmly against hers under the table.

"You are a professor?"

Fleur was leaning forward, examining David like he was the most interesting person in the world. The man shifted in his seat.

"Yes. Well… I was until recently."

"What do you teach?"

"Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"I imagine you would be quite good at that."

David shrugged, pushing food around on his plate.

"He is," Tonks answered for him, smirking mischievously as he raised another eyebrow. "Absolutely rubbish with children, though. He made a boy cry his second day at Hogwarts."

"I did?"

"Mmhmm," she mumbled around a mouthful of eggs. "That little Malfoy git. He tried to hex someone from behind and you got right in his face, all… werewolfy."

" _Werewolfy?_ " he repeated, lips twitching. "Is that a word?"

"It is now," she retorted. Making her eyes as wide as possible, she leaned forward into his personal space. He held his ground, smile growing.

"You do this thing where you stare straight into someone's soul. Then you flare your nostrils and breathe heavily. It's scary as hell."

She was about to lean back when his hand snaked around her waist, holding her in place.

"Is it strange that I find that incredibly attractive?"

She laughed.

"I must not be doing it properly."

"Oh no, I quite like your interpretation."

He leaned forward and kissed her. She smiled into him but he pulled away far too soon, drawing an involuntary whimper from her throat. The corners of his eyes were crinkling with affection, and the hand on her waist suddenly found the hem of her jumper. His warm palm settled possessively on the bare skin of her lower back, and Tonks's breath caught.

"At this point," he continued conversationally, as though he had not just derailed her brain, "I've gone _werewolfy_ on Malfoy so many times, I can't remember that particular incident."

Tonks cleared her throat, willing her voice to remain steady.

"… I just remember 'cause I thought it was hilarious. Then you did it to me a few weeks later and it was less funny."

The humor faded from David's eyes.

"Oh. Erm…"

She scoffed.

"I completely deserved it. Put bulbadox powder in the Ravenclaw quidditch uniforms before our first match. Still don't understand how you knew it was me."

"Bulbadox powder smells like _actual_ shit, Dora. It wasn't that hard."

"Really?" she snorted. "What a lovely first impression I made."

"Wasn't my first impression," he reminded her, lips quirking, "but it was definitely memorable."

A huff sounded from across the table. They turned to find Bill quietly laughing at them.

"What?" Tonks asked. He shook his head.

"Nothing. Just… enjoying the show."

David's thumb was massaging a muscle in her back and making it very difficult to concentrate. Tonks nodded vaguely.

"… oh."

The quidditch debate at the other end of the table was heating up, and Bill was called upon to offer his opinion on the Cannons' backup Seeker. Meanwhile, David's fingers were wreaking havoc on Tonks's blood pressure. They pressed firmly into her back, loosening knots she hadn't even known were there. She found herself sagging into him, breakfast entirely forgotten.

"More toast?"

Molly's voice rang out from above them, disapproval in her tone. Tonks almost jumped out of her skin and David yanked his hand out from under her jumper. They looked up at the Weasley matriarch, and Tonks could swear she saw a flash of amusement in the woman's shrewd green eyes.

"Here you are, dears," she said brusquely, piling buttered toast on their plates. She bustled away and David turned to Tonks, leaning in so close that when he whispered, she could feel his breath on her lips.

"Did I miss something? She seems… odd."

Tonks opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She had completely forgotten about Bill's revelation the day before. Suddenly, the Weasleys' collective presence at Grimmauld Place made a lot more sense.

"… erm…" she said intelligently. David was staring at her, brow furrowed. Then, miraculously, she was saved.

"D'you follow quidditch at all, Davie?"

The table fell silent at Arthur's words. He was gazing expectantly at the ex-Reaper. David blinked, his concentration broken. Slowly, he turned confused eyes to the red-haired man on the other side of Tonks.

"… s- sorry, you… you're talking to me?"

Arthur smiled uncertainly.

"You're the only Davie here, son. Unless you don't want us to call you that?"

David stared at him for a long moment, then shook himself.

"No, it… that – that's fine. Yeah, you can – you can call me that."

"… alright," Arthur said carefully, eyes still fixed on the younger man. "We were just discussing next year's World Cup. D'you follow any teams?"

The werewolf hesitated, glancing around the table. Experience told Tonks that he was choosing between playing for an audience and being himself.

"… no," he finally decided. "I don't. Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," Arthur replied, chuckling. "I know it's not for everyone."

"D'you like… erm," Ron struggled for the word, "… football? That's what it's called, right?"

David examined the younger werewolf for a moment, considering his response. Then –

"Yes, that's what it's called. But…"

He shrugged, absently picking up a piece of toast.

"… I've never really understood sports. Magical or otherwise. Seems like an awful lot of effort for something that doesn't matter."

Tonks – who had heard this speech before – just snorted.

"You're taking your life in your hands," she warned him teasingly, "telling _this_ lot that quidditch doesn't matter."

"I suppose it doesn't," Arthur said, surprising everyone. "Not in any real way. But it does make an awful lot of people happy."

Bill laughed at this.

"I don't know if _happy_ is the word I would use to describe our house after the Cannons lost to the Arrows by three hundred points."

The table erupted at this statement, everyone voicing their own opinions as to _why_ that travesty had occurred. David turned bewildered eyes to Tonks and she fought back a laugh.

"Don't worry," she murmured, squeezing his knee. "This is normal."

It took a while for the table to settle down. As conversation lulled again, Tonks cast about for something to say, some way to steer attention away from the werewolf eating toast beside her. But it was too late.

"We'll take you to the World Cup, professor," Ron said firmly, grabbing a mince pie out of the bowl in front of him. "I think you'll like it."

"Haven't you been to the Hogwarts matches?" Ginny asked from across the table. David shrugged.

"A few of them."

"You ever actually _played_ quidditch?" the girl asked earnestly.

"No."

More than a few mouths fell open at this.

"But – "

"How is that – ?"

"We can play today when we – "

"For Merlin's sake," Molly interrupted from the counter, where she was pushing down the top of another French press full of coffee, "leave the poor man alone. I don't think he's interested."

She bustled back over to the table, coffee in hand, and proceeded to refill David's mug. The man stared up at her, eyes narrowing.

"You take milk, right?"

The woman raised her wand to summon the milk.

"Stop. Just… _stop_."

David's voice was quiet, calm, yet it seemed to lower the temperature in the room by several degrees. Every muscle in his body was rigid. He looked around the table, shrewd eyes examining every face before returning to Molly.

" _Why?_ " he hissed. She blinked.

"Why _what_ , dear?"

"Why the _fuck_ are you calling me _dear?!_ "

She flinched, but he either didn't notice or he didn't care. Silence stretched for a long, uncertain moment and Molly just stared at him, eyes wide. Finally, he drew in a harsh breath.

"Stop being so bloody nice to me," he growled. "Alright?"

"Why?" she countered immediately, surprising Tonks with her defiance. "Why shouldn't I be nice to you?"

"Because I don't want your _pity,_ " he snarled. "You may know my real name, but I'm still the same person. I killed your brothers, I fought against you at Tantallon, I – "

"You saved my children from Bellatrix Lestrange."

David's mug – sitting untouched beside his plate – exploded in a shower of coffee and ceramic shards. Several people cried out, and Tonks hissed as drops of hot liquid hit her face. But the pain was quickly forgotten when she saw the blood gushing from the werewolf's nose.

" _Remus_ – "

"Get _back!_ " he snarled, pushing her away from him with one hand as he clapped the other to his face. He threw himself out of his chair, stumbling to the sink. Blood ran freely down his chin and into the drain, pattering against the metal like sickening raindrops.

" _Fuck,_ " Lily hissed, rushing forward. Tonks was on her feet too, but David gestured them back frantically.

"No, stay away," he growled. "'m alright, just… give me a minute."

He turned on the tap, splashing cold water on his face with trembling hands. Then he craned his neck to look back at the table.

"Did it get on anyone? Dora?"

She examined herself carefully. Coffee stained the sleeves of her jumper, but no blood. When she looked up at him and shook her head, he deflated with relief and turned back to the sink, nearly collapsing over it.

"… thank fuck," he mumbled into the drain. Tonks approached him slowly, leaning her hip against the counter next to him as she crossed her arms.

"Magical exhaustion's a real bitch," she remarked with forced levity. He huffed, then spit into the sink.

"… you can say that again," he muttered.

"What did that mug ever do to you?"

Her attempt at humor fell flat. He grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose to try and stem the flow of blood.

"Nothing. I lost control."

She didn't quite know how to respond to the self-hatred in his voice.

"… happens to the best of us," she eventually offered with a shrug. "I used to shatter my bedroom window whenever mum forced me into a dress."

He didn't reply for a long moment, his eyes now closed. Then he drew in a rattling breath.

"… bet you'd look really nice in a dress."

She smiled and reached forward, grasping his bicep and squeezing gently.

"Bill figured it out," Molly interrupted from behind them. Tonks turned to find the plump woman cleaning up the coffee, ceramic and blood on the table with efficient sweeps of her wand. David didn't turn away from the sink, but Molly continued anyway.

"You made some comment about us living in a swamp, even though you'd never been to our house before. Tonks confirmed it, of course."

The metamorphmagus winced at this. He hadn't wanted her to tell anyone. She shot him an apologetic glance, but he just shook his head wearily.

"What _I_ don't understand," the Weasley matriarch said, tone now edging towards fierce, "is why you kept it a secret."

She turned around, all signs of the mess eradicated.

"Hmm?" she hummed expectantly, crossing her arms. "Why didn't you say anything?"

There was a long silence. Then David mumbled something unintelligible through the blood drying on his lips. Molly raised her eyebrows.

"I beg your pardon?"

The werewolf drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, eyes still closed. Then he spoke again, more clearly this time.

"… you wouldn't have believed me."

Molly opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. She blinked once, twice, then closed her mouth. Nobody else spoke.

Finally, Tonks reached up and opened one of the cupboards, grabbing an old hand towel. She slapped it against her thigh to dispel the worst of the dust, then held it out to David.

"Here," she said quietly. His eyes cracked open and he peered at her. To her relief, his gaze held nothing but tired acceptance. He took the towel.

"Thanks, love."

He ran it under the tap and began to clean his face. The flow of blood from his nose had slowed to a trickle. He was trembling, face deathly pale, lips turning a light shade of blue. He shot her a rueful glance.

"… sure you want to saddle yourself with _this?_ "

Before she could answer, his knees gave out. She lurched forward but Moody was already there, catching the young man by the armpits and hauling him upright.

"Alright, lad," the old man said gruffly, pulling one of David's arms over his shoulders. "Come on, sit down."

Tonks pushed herself under the werewolf's other arm. She and Moody half carried him back to the table and lowered him into a chair. They sat down on either side of him and Moody leaned forward to grasp one of David's sagging shoulders with a firm hand.

"Look at me, son."

"… not your son," came the mumbled reply. The werewolf's eyes remained decidedly closed. Moody's lips tightened into a grim line.

"No. You're not. You're the son of Thomas and Susan Exley."

David's breath hitched. Tonks wrapped both of her hands around one of his and squeezed.

"Brother to Amelia Exley."

The werewolf opened his eyes. Moody's fingers tightened on his shoulder.

"And when we _find_ her," he growled firmly, "we are going to clear your name."

A lengthy silence. Then -

"… how?"

The quiet word made Moody blink. David was staring at him, gaze uncharacteristically vulnerable. The grizzled Auror cleared his throat.

"Albus has a plan. I'll let him tell you when he gets back."

To Tonks's surprise, the werewolf's lips quirked. Then he huffed, shaking his head slowly.

"I tend not to like his plans much," he muttered, looking away. "I always end up having to lie to someone I care about."

"Well, it won't be like that this time," the old man replied firmly. "The only thing you need to do is tell the truth."

David froze. The Auror's scarred jaw tightened.

" _All_ of it."

A moment of tense silence. Then the werewolf shrugged out of the older man's grasp, leaning back in his chair and pulling Tonks's hands into his lap. His skin was cold and clammy, his grip so tight it was almost painful.

"What exactly do you mean by _all of it?_ "

Nobody knew how to respond to this. His eyes were fixed on Moody's. Finally, he drew in a shaking breath and let it out slowly.

"… I cast the Dark Mark right before the ceiling fell. I'm an easy scapegoat, and there's very little I can do to prove my innocence."

"They're supposed to prove you guilty," Sirius grunted from a corner, "not the other way 'round."

"Yes, well, people are _supposed_ to do a lot of things," the werewolf muttered without looking at him.

"Rem - _Davie_ ," Lily interjected fiercely, "for fuck's sake, look what just happened. You couldn't possibly have caused the collapse!"

"How can I prove I didn't exhaust myself doing exactly that?" he demanded, turning to her. "My current condition is not a mark in my favour."

"Why can't you just take veritaserum?" Ginny chimed in.

"Because I metabolise it too fast. My answers wouldn't be reliable in court."

"Albus has a _plan_ ," Moody repeated with an air of finality. David huffed with mirthless laughter and shook his head.

"I wish I could take as much comfort in that as you clearly do."

He ran a trembling hand down his face, untrimmed stubble rasping audibly against his fingers. Moody examined him sadly.

"… we're going to make this right, lad."

David blinked, then slowly turned his gaze back to the old man. He raised an eyebrow and Tonks suppressed a sigh. This was not going to go the way Mad Eye clearly wanted it to.

"… make it _right?_ " the werewolf repeated. More than a few people nodded. He looked around, the corner of his mouth curling up in an incredulous smile. He chuckled and shook his head.

"Something funny?" Sirius asked.

"No," the werewolf replied blithely, still chuckling. "Just… sort of ridiculous, that's all."

"Ridiculous?" James repeated, a challenge in his voice. "Why is getting justice for what happened to you _ridiculous?_ "

David's smile froze and his eyes went hard.

"Because what happened to me is only one small part of a much bigger picture," he said quietly. "You can't just… _make it right_."

Silence greeted these words. Tonks drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. David glanced at her and she gave him a small, encouraging smile. His gaze flickered, his throat bobbed.

"If Crowther hadn't invented those weapons," he said suddenly, "you would have lost the War."

Several mouths opened incredulously at this, but he held up a hand.

" _Don't_ – argue with me. It's the truth, and you know it. We were better than you, stronger than you, _angrier_ than you. While I…"

He paused, struggling with the words.

"… can't agree with his _methods_ ," he finally continued, "I also can't argue with his results. He did what he felt was necessary, and we have him to thank for Riddle's ultimate defeat."

Uneasy silence greeted this statement. The broken radio let out a particularly atonal warble. David drew in another breath, blank eyes now fixed on the flagstones at his feet.

"Much as I hate to admit it, Crowther and I are… on the same spectrum, of sorts. We've both done unforgivable things in the name of what we thought was _right_. I… I fucking _despise_ the man, but – "

He cut himself off, drawing in a few unsteady gasps. They waited for him.

"We're the same person," he finally ground out through clenched teeth. "How can I judge him for something I might have done myself, if I were faced with the same choices?"

"Would you?"

Both of Moody's eyes were fixed, unblinking, on the younger man. David jumped and looked up, as if he had forgotten that he had an audience.

"… w- would I what?"

"Make the same choices."

The werewolf's mouth opened, then closed. He just stared at the grizzled Auror, who was glaring daggers back at him.

"Would you trick Albus into giving you the addresses of a load of _children_? Then go to their homes, murder their families, infect them with lycanthropy, and conduct _experiments_ on them?"

David's face had gone oddly blank. Tonks winced as the bones in her fingers creaked under the pressure of his hand. She waited for a long, tense moment, then –

"Erm… Remus, love? Could you…?"

She tried and failed to wiggle her trapped digits. He blinked, turning bewildered eyes to her before glancing down at their joined hands.

"Oh – _shit_ – s-sorry," he stammered, releasing her immediately. She managed a smile for him, shaking out her protesting knuckles.

"It's okay. Mad Eye asked you a question, though."

His wide eyes were still fixed on her, guilt clear on his face.

"I didn't mean to – "

" _David_ ," she said firmly, reminding herself yet again of his real name, "I'm _fine_. Answer the question."

But Moody was shaking his head at her, holding up a large hand.

"I already know the answer," he grunted. "But I don't think _he_ does."

He jerked his head at the man sitting between them. David glanced uncertainly at him, hands fidgeting in his lap.

"… you have a rather rose-tinted view of my character, Moody."

"I have a more realistic view of your character than _you_ do, boy," Moody snapped. "You hate yourself because of decisions you made under duress. When you were a _child_."

David bristled.

"I wasn't a _victim_ , alright?"

"There's no shame in being a victim."

"Yes, there bloody well is!" he cried, amber eyes burning. "Nobody fears a _victim_. And the second they stop fearing you is the second they start _hurting_ you!"

His words echoed around the room for nearly a minute. The only sound was David's harsh, unsteady breathing. Finally, Sirius pushed himself away from the corner in which he'd been lurking.

"And _that_ , ladies and gentlemen, explains the entire War."

David raised bloodshot eyes to the man, lips curled in a nasty snarl.

"Shut up, Black. You don't know anything."

"Oh right, I forgot," Sirius shot back sarcastically. "My family was a load of racist, pureblood psychopaths who wanted me to get the Dark Mark when I was _fifteen_. Of course I wouldn't understand a _bit_ of what you went through."

David dropped his gaze and began to pick at one of his ragged fingernails. Tonks shot her cousin an angry glare. There was no need to get testy. He just shrugged at her, throwing his hands in the air.

"What?" he protested. Tonks rolled her eyes.

"Alright, everyone," Arthur said quietly, "let's just… calm down. David's supposed to be _resting_."

The werewolf snorted mirthlessly, shaking his head and rubbing one hand over his eyes. Tonks squeezed his knee and looked around the table, finally voicing a question she had been holding back for some time.

"Where's Harry?"

"In Bradford," James replied immediately. "Hermione wanted to do some research at City Hall."

"… they went by _themselves?_ " David rasped, looking up. There was a surprising amount of panic in his eyes.

"Kingsley went with them," James said, sounding a bit defensive. "It's not exactly a high-risk operation."

" _Not a high-risk - ?!_ "

The werewolf cut himself off, glaring furiously at the man.

"Don't you _get it?!_ " he hissed. "Crowther controls at least half the Ministry, he has all but _five_ Wizengamot members in his pocket! Public opinion is with him, it always has been. He could ruin all of your lives, he could have you thrown in Azkaban, he could have you murdered down a back alley!"

Weighty silence met his words. He glanced desperately around the room.

"Most of the Wizengamot already _knows_ what he did! It was sanctioned by Minister Bagnold, she came to inspect us!"

" _Inspect_ you?" Tonks burst out. "What d'you mean, _inspect you?_ "

He ignored the question, plowing forward with grim determination.

"Get them back here," he growled, jabbing the table with one finger. "Get them back here _now_. He doesn't care who gets hurt, as long as it serves his version of the greater good."

James and Lily had gone very pale. They glanced at each other.

"Should we send a patronus?"

"They're in a Muggle building, we _can't_."

"I'll take the floo, then," James said, lurching to his feet and throwing off his robes to reveal Muggle trousers and a rumpled button-up shirt. "Sirius, you coming?"

"You'll make a scene if you both go barging in there," Tonks pointed out. "Crowther's men might not have spotted them yet, but two frantic war heroes will definitely draw attention."

James stared at her for a moment, then nodded grimly.

"Right. I'll go alone."

He bent down and placed a hurried kiss on his wife's lips.

"I'll be right back," he murmured, resting his forehead against hers for a moment. Then he was striding to the fireplace, reaching up to grab a handful of floo powder from the bowl on the mantle. With a roar of flame, he was gone.

Stunned silence descended. Then –

"Millicent knew?"

Moody's voice was soft, but Tonks could hear the pain he was trying to hide. David tensed at her side.

"… yes."

The old Auror swore under his breath, turning away and bracing his elbows on the table. He laced his fingers together and pressed his mouth into them, staring at something nobody else could see. After a long, awkward moment, David shifted in his seat.

"… she only did what she _had_ to, Alastor."

" _Don't_ ," Moody hissed, closing his eyes. "Don't start that again, lad."

David grimaced and looked down at his lap. He was tearing at a nail again, and Tonks reached out and pulled his hands apart.

"Stop that, love," she murmured, tangling her fingers with his.

"Why would hurting Harry and Hermione serve the _greater good?_ "

The question came from Ron, who was now on his feet and pacing back and forth across the other end of the room like a caged animal. His eyes were hard, arms crossed tightly over his chest. David sighed and ran the fingers of his free hand through his hair.

"Because he doesn't want the public to know what happened," he said wearily, staring at the cold remnants of his scrambled eggs. "Right now, general opinion states that werewolves are dangerous, horrible people who deserve to be locked up in Lunar District and left to rot. But if… certain things are made public, then the werewolf rights groups might actually start getting some support. It will make it a lot harder for him to get things done."

"What things?" Tonks asked, furrowing her brow. He grimaced.

"I'm not supposed to know about this," he mumbled, shrugging, "but apparently the Wizengamot is seriously considering his proposal to sterilise every werewolf in the country."

Awful silence greeted this statement. Tonks gaped at him.

"… _what?!_ " Molly hissed. She was standing beside the sink, fists clenched at her sides, green fire in her eyes. She looked truly frightening, and even David seemed to shrink back under the force of her ire.

"They can't _do that!_ " she cried, voice high and shrill.

"Yes," David said quietly, "they can. It wouldn't even be that hard, our birth rate is already low. Half of werewolf pregnancies end in miscarriage or death."

He stated the figure with alarming neutrality, like it was a statistic that did not affect him. He continued, and Tonks spared a moment to marvel at how communicative he was being.

"The embryo has a fifty percent chance of inheriting the disease. If the child is human, it will die on the first full moon when the mother transforms. If the mother is human and the child a werewolf, then the mother often dies instead."

He pulled his hand away from Tonks's, crossing his arms and tightening his jaw as he glared daggers at the table.

"Needless to say, not many people take the risk. Lycanthropy spreads primarily through infection, not inheritance. Lunar District is actually working quite well to reduce our numbers. But Crowther wants to put nails in the coffin and eradicate the disease once and for all. It's only a matter of time before other countries follow his lead."

He fell silent for a moment, hesitating. Then he continued.

"Ironically… he and I have the same goal. I want to stop the spread of lycanthropy just as much as he does. But I think we could achieve that through education, through research. Those people have suffered enough, they don't deserve to have even more of their humanity stripped away."

The kitchen was in a state of mute shock. Everyone was staring at the haggard werewolf. He shifted under their collective scrutiny, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. He glanced at Tonks from under his brows, drew in a sharp breath, hesitated, then mumbled –

"… 'm sorry. I should have told you about the… pregnancy… thing."

Something between an exasperated huff and a miserable sob escaped her throat. She lurched forward, taking his head in her hands and pressing her lips hard against his temple.

"Don't apologise," she croaked into his hair. "Don't you _dare_ apologise."

His hand came up to her elbow and he turned so his forehead was resting against hers. She didn't realize she was crying until a calloused thumb wiped a tear from her cheek. Then a throat cleared, and David's body vibrated as a large hand landed on his other shoulder.

"Lad," Moody growled as they both turned to him, "would you be willing to talk to a reporter?"

The werewolf blinked.

"… a – _what?_ "

"A re – "

The floo roared to life, cutting the old man off. A figure spun into view in the fireplace and within seconds, Severus Snape was stepping out of the grate, shaking soot from his black robes. He cast shrewd eyes around the room, finally landing on the werewolf at the end of the table.

"Remus," he greeted, nodding to the man. "You look like hell."

David just stared at him. A line formed between Snape's brows and he strode swiftly forward.

"Why are you so pale?" he demanded imperiously. Batting Tonks's hands aside, he pressed his fingers to the younger man's temples. His eyes narrowed.

"You used wandless magic."

David cast Tonks a helpless glance, then looked back at Snape.

"… I blew up some coffee."

Snape let out an exasperated sigh, releasing his patient.

"I didn't _mean_ to," the werewolf grumbled petulantly. "It was an accident."

"Yes, well," the potions master drawled, reaching into his robes and pulling out a glass vial full of something that looked remarkably like pond scum. "A few more _accidents_ like that, and you'll finish Crowther's work for him. Drink this."

He thrust the pond scum into David's hand. The werewolf glanced at it and made a face.

"Oh _come on_ , Sev," he protested, trying to give it back. "This stuff is _disgusting_."

"So is dying of magical exhaustion."

David glared up at him.

"I really don't want to take this."

"Too bad," the potions master quipped, reaching down and brushing some of David's hair back from his forehead. The werewolf jerked away.

" _Oy!_ "

"I'm just checking something, you idiot," the man snarled. "I don't know if you remember, but I _headbutted_ you last night."

David stilled, brow furrowing.

"… really?"

"Really. Gave my skull a hairline fracture."

"Shit."

"Quite. Now stop fighting me."

As Snape prodded his forehead with long, perfectly manicured fingers, David cast uncertain glances up at him.

"Are… are you alright?"

The ex-Death Eater snorted.

"I'm fine. So are you, apparently."

"My skull's thicker than yours."

"Literally and figuratively. _Drink_ , you stubborn arse."

Finished with his brief examination, he jabbed a finger at the vial. With a loud, resigned sigh and an exaggerated roll of his eyes, David got unsteadily to his feet.

"I need to drink this in the toilet," he muttered. "I might vomit."

"You better not," Snape warned. "D'you need help?"

"Getting to the toilet?" David said drily. "No, Sev. I think I can handle it."

It took all of Tonks's willpower not to leap up and help him as he swayed on his feet. Something in the set of his jaw told her that he needed to do this on his own. Squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath, he managed to stalk to the door.

"Don't you dare pour it down the sink!" Snape yelled as he disappeared into the hallway.

"Fuck off!"

Silence fell as his footsteps faded. Snape turned unimpressed eyes to Moody.

"I told you to keep him _calm_."

The old man bristled.

"Wasn't _me_ ," he grumbled, then jerked his chin at Molly. " _She_ thought it was the perfect time to bring up the whole Bellatrix thing."

Snape fixed the plump woman with a cold glare and she swelled like an offended bullfrog.

"I was trying to _thank_ him – "

"He doesn't _want_ to be thanked," the ex-Death Eater sneered, like he was explaining something to a very slow child. "He loved Bellatrix. She was kind to him at a time when he had no one else. I would advise you not to bring it up again."

His dark brown eyes surveyed the other Weasleys at the table.

"That goes for _all_ of you."

A collection of hurried nods satisfied him and he turned to Lily, pulling a small sack out of his robes.

"I brought his dose of wolfsbane," he informed the healer as she took the sack. "But knowing him, he won't want to take it this month."

"Why not?" Lily asked, concerned. Snape grimaced and jerked his head at Ron.

"It's his first. Remus will need all his strength to handle him."

" _Handle_ me?" Ron repeated, looking pale. "What d'you mean? I'll be on wolfsbane too, won't I?"

"It doesn't work on your first full moon," Snape said, turning to the boy with uncharacteristic compassion in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Weasley. If it makes you feel better, I've been told the pain isn't as bad when the wolf takes over."

"Oh, yeah, that makes me feel _loads_ better," the young man snarled, resuming his angry pacing. "When were you lot going to tell me this? The night of?"

Snape raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"I believe I just told you," he drawled sarcastically. Ron glared at him as the fireplace burst into flame yet again, tossing four people out in rapid succession.

Harry rolled gracefully to his feet and immediately removed his round glasses, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe off the worst of the black soot. Hermione landed beside him, hair singed, fierce triumph on her face. Kingsley followed, looking amused, and James brought up the rear, looking annoyed. Lily leapt to her feet and rounded the table.

"Don't use your shirt, Harry," she scolded, confiscating his glasses. "How many times do I have to tell you?"

She pulled out her handkerchief and began to clean them more thoroughly, turning to James as she did so.

"I take it there was no trouble?"

Her husband let out an exasperated sigh.

"No, they were there, alright. Three or four WCU blockheads. But _these two_ – "

He pointed an accusing finger at Harry and Hermione, who didn't seem the least bit chagrined.

" – didn't want to _leave_."

"We were in disguise," Hermione insisted, gesturing to their Muggle clothing. "And the alert charms on those records were pitiful, they had no reason to suspect us."

"Did you get anything?" Moody asked impatiently, rising to his feet. The two teenagers nodded eagerly and Hermione reached into her handbag, rummaging about for a moment before pulling out a pile of papers that couldn't possibly have fit without magical aid. She strode forward and slapped them down on the table with a satisfying _thwack_.

"Birth certificates for Thomas and Susan, their marriage licence, his military records, several newspaper articles about her work at the university, and their obituaries. We made copies of everything and took the originals."

She shuffled through the pile until she found a plain envelope, unsealed and unmarked.

"Crowther was thorough," she said, pulling a folded sheet of yellowing paper out of the envelope. "There's no mention of any children. No birth certificates or pictures. But listen to this."

She unfolded the paper and began to read aloud.

" _'In the event of my death, I, Thomas Josiah Exley, bequeath all my earthly possessions to my loving and ever-patient wife, Susan. I hope she can forgive me for the manner of my death, as I am sure it was violent. I would ask her to love again, to be happy, to keep the laughter alive in our house, as she has always done. I await them in the next life with my arms wide open.'"_

Hermione looked up, triumph in her eyes. But a strangled sound from the doorway distracted them all from Crowther's mistake.

David was standing in the hall, clutching the doorframe with one white-knuckled hand. His wide amber eyes were fixed on the paper in Hermione's grip. The girl drew in a shocked hiss, an uncharacteristic oath escaping her lips.

"… oh _shit_. I am _so_ sorry, Professor, I – I thought you were asleep!"

He ignored the apology, striding across the room with newfound energy. He reached for the paper and she gave it to him without hesitation.

For a long moment, they watched in silence as he scanned the document. Tonks rose hesitantly to her feet and went to his side, peering around his shoulder. The will was handwritten – scrawled, as though in a hurry. It was dated less than a year after David's birth. Despite the mood, she couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face.

"His handwriting looks just like yours."

David let out a bark of almost hysterical laughter, shooting her a watery glance.

"That explains why I can't read any of it."

He looked back down at the paper, trembling fingers hovering over his father's signature. Then he looked up at Hermione, who was nervously wringing her hands.

"How did you get this?"

She blinked, clearly confused.

"It was in the records at City Hall," she said, shrugging. "A few WCU officers were there, but they didn't notice us."

"But…"

David shifted on his feet, brow furrowing.

"… the alert charms. How did you get through those?"

"It was a series of simple _vigilanti_ charms," Hermione said briskly, looking more confident. "Professor Flitwick taught us how to get through those in fifth year."

The werewolf blinked, then dropped his gaze.

"… right. Erm…"

A look of embarrassed realization dawned on Hermione's face and she backpedaled.

"Not that – it wasn't… it wasn't _that_ easy, of course – "

"Miss Granger," David cut her off, shooting her a rueful glance from under his brows, "you don't have to look after my ego. I'm just grateful you managed to get this without attracting any trouble."

She hesitated, glancing at the pile of papers on the table.

"It's not just… _that_ , sir."

The werewolf blinked, then turned to follow her gaze. Harry was closest to the pile, and he leaned down to pull out a small, glossy piece of paper. Even from several metres away, Tonks could tell it was a photograph.

"We brought you a lot of things, Professor," the boy said, holding out the picture, "but… well…"

He trailed off. David examined him for a moment before his eyes fell to the photograph he offered. Slowly, tentatively, he reached out and took it from the boy's fingers. He pulled it closer, and Tonks gasped.

A young man and a young woman stood on the outskirts of a large crowd, neither one looking at the camera. It was a Muggle photograph, unmoving, in stark shades of black and white. The woman was small, thin, with long dark hair and a stylish coat. It was hard to tell if she was pretty, for her face was contorted into a passionate cry frozen for eternity on film. She was holding a sign over her head, hand-painted letters spelling the words _End the War Before it Ends You!_

The young man beside her was tall and broad, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms. His light hair was cropped short; the corners of his dark eyes crinkled with amusement. He was looking down at his irate companion, an achingly familiar expression on his face. Tonks could almost read his thoughts – _I love you, you crazy woman._

David had gone very still. It was at times like this that Tonks could truly believe he had been a spy. His face revealed nothing, his chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths.

"I've seen this before," he murmured. "In a newspaper at the Manchester library. Thought for sure he wouldn't have set an alarm there, but I'd barely touched the thing when his goons arrived."

"Why?" Tonks demanded. "Why did he put so much effort into keeping every bit of them away from you?"

"He didn't want to risk me finding any evidence," David said, eyes still fixed on his parents' faces.

"Why not just destroy all their records, then?"

The werewolf grimaced, shooting her an unhappy glance.

"Because their murder is still unsolved, at least according to the Muggle police. And there are far too many people in Bradford who still remember them. They managed to erase Amelia and I because we were young. Our friends and neighbours only had so many memories of us. But mum and dad – "

He cut himself off, almost choking on the words. When he finally spoke again, his voice was quiet and strained.

"… they grew up there. People knew them for more than thirty years. You can't just… pull that out of someone's head. Not without causing obvious damage."

He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, eyes still on the photograph.

"I went back when I was… I dunno, eight, maybe. I thought mum's best friend might take me in, might…"

A huff of mirthless laughter escaped his lips and he ran an agitated hand through his hair. The kitchen was silent, all eyes fixed on him.

"She didn't remember me," he said, shrugging as if it didn't matter. "Or Amy. I was sort of a mess at that point. I think I – I _know_ I scared her. She called the police, and I just… ran for it. Went back to the Lothians."

He paused, gaze distant and unseeing. Then he abruptly looked up at Tonks and shrugged again.

"Anyway. If their records went missing, someone might notice."

Ignoring the thunderous silence in the room, he turned to Hermione.

"This isn't the original, is it?"

She blinked at him, then nodded slowly. He looked back down at the photograph, scrutinizing it for a long moment.

"… this was taken in 1963, two years before I was born. Amelia would have been four."

The tips of his fingers ghosted along his father's torso and Tonks squinted at the black and white image. Thomas Exley's left hand was behind his wife, presumably resting on her lower back. His right arm was bent at the elbow, large hand lying on his own shoulder. It was an odd posture, to be sure. Tonks glanced up at David's profile.

"… d'you think…?"

He turned to her, and she almost gasped. She had seen rage, terror, anguish, and love in his eyes; she had seen him at his best and at his very worst. But never – _never_ – had she seen this particular emotion cross his face.

For the first time in what she knew must be ages, David Exley was allowing himself to _hope_.

"Can you try a revealing charm?" he asked her, holding the photograph out with trembling fingers. She hesitated.

"Don't _you_ want to be the one to – "

"No," he said, shaking his head vehemently, "Dora, you – you know I'm rubbish at any sort of magic that isn't… blowing shit up or hurting people."

"That's not true," she protested, casting about for an example of his magical prowess that wasn't destructive in some way. She had to admit it was rather difficult, and his lips quirked.

"Please, love," he asked quietly, glancing pointedly down at the photograph. "I'd only set it on fire or something."

She glared at him, lips pursed, for a long moment before taking the picture. He smiled gratefully and she pulled her wand out of the waistband of her pyjamas.

"You know," she remarked with an arched eyebrow, "accidentally setting things on fire is usually a sign you're not using the right wand."

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"… don't _you_ start on that, too," he grumbled, crossing his arms. She let the point rest for now, turning her full attention to the problem at hand. Glaring down at the photograph, she gritted her teeth and raised her wand. This was _going_ to work.

" _Revelio_."

She made a small circle in the air with the tip of her wand. But nothing happened. The photograph remained unchanged. She grimaced. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see David's shoulders drop.

"… fuck."

"Hold on," she grunted, "I still have a few tricks up my sleeve."

She twisted her wrist and pushed the wand forward in a single, sharp motion.

" _Finite Incantatem!_ "

Still nothing.

" _Revelio Integrum!_ "

It made no difference. Tonks heard movement, and two flashes of red hair announced the uncharacteristically tentative approach of Fred and George.

"Can we see?" one of them – she was too preoccupied to tell them apart – asked, holding out a hand. She glanced at David for permission. He shot the boys a confused look, then shrugged. She gave them the photograph and the twins bent over it, whispering fiercely.

"… could be like the _absensio_ charm we used for – "

"What're the chances Crowther invented the same spell as us, Fred? I refuse to believe he has a single creative bone in his body."

"It could be confunded."

"It's a Muggle photograph, you can only confund magical objects."

"He could have redeveloped the original film – "

"Seems like an awful lot of effort."

"I don't see _you_ offering any brilliant ideas…"

"A projected Disillusionment Charm?"

The boys froze, staring at each other. Then, decision made, George raised his wand. David furrowed his brow and took a step forward.

"Wait a – "

" _Revelio tuum colorum!_ "

A single, tense moment. Then Fred and George's faces split into identical, triumphant grins. They raised shining eyes to David and held out the photograph. He gaped at them, mouth open in obvious shock.

"Must say, mate," George said, "your sister's cute."

The werewolf stared at him for a single moment longer. Then he took two strides forward and snatched the picture from his hand.

One glance at it and his body seemed to wilt, chest curling in on itself. He let out a strangled moan and clapped a hand to his mouth, shining eyes fixed on the photograph.

"Oh God…" he mumbled through his fingers, voice high with the effort of holding back tears. "Oh God, that's her, that's – "

Tonks stepped towards him and pressed a hand against his side, letting him know she was there. His ribcage was heaving, his breath shallow and rasping. She looked down at the picture. Sure enough – where once there had been a couple, there was now a family. A little girl sat on Thomas Exley's shoulders, her long hair as light as her father's, her face as animated as her mother's. She was laughing, tiny fists in the air.

Then David was moving, lurching forward and throwing his arms around George Weasley. The boy froze, blue eyes wide with a mixture of fear and confusion.

"… erm…" he stammered, shooting Tonks a desperate glance over the werewolf's shoulder. But David was already pushing himself away again, looking embarrassed.

"S-sorry – sorry," he mumbled, shaking his head and holding up his hands. "I just… fucking hell, Weasley. _Thank you_."

He looked down at the picture again, missing the way George's gaze softened as he examined his former professor. The boy shifted on his feet, hesitating.

"… you're welcome," he finally said. "It's the least we can do. After… well. Everything."

David blinked, then slowly looked up. He glanced between Fred and George, then shook his head.

"… you don't owe me anything," he muttered, returning his gaze to his sister. "You never did."

Both boys looked like they wanted to argue. But the werewolf was already turning away. He held the picture up to Tonks, eyes lit with a happiness she had rarely seen in him.

"I…" he let out a breathless laugh, "… I'd honestly forgotten what she looked like."

She didn't trust herself to speak. Instead, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. He crushed her to his chest, lifting her feet off the floor. She buried her face in his neck and breathed in the scent of him.

"I love you," she mumbled against his skin. Another soft, disbelieving laugh shook his body and he squeezed her tighter.

"I love you, too."

The sound of a wooden leg on flagstones preceded an awkwardly cleared throat.

"So… Amelia's in that picture now?"

David extricated himself from Tonks's arms just enough to nod wordlessly and hand the photograph to Moody. The old man examined it for a long moment, then looked back up.

"Bit of an odd couple, your parents. You said he fought in Vietnam? I thought Britain stayed out of that particular cock up."

The werewolf shrugged, hesitating.

"I, erm… I dunno," he stammered. "I just remember a… a toy helicopter and a lot of arguments that featured the word _Vietnam_ quite prominently. Add the dogtags and I… didn't really know what else to think."

"He was in the SAS."

They all turned to look at Hermione. The girl was pulling a thin folder out of the pile of papers on the table.

"We didn't send any official troops to Vietnam," she informed them briskly, "but we unofficially sent a few SAS divisions to help train the South Vietnamese forces. He was in one of those teams." *

David blinked, gaze darting between the girl and the folder in her hands.

"… oh."

She stepped forward and held it out to him. He hesitated, then shook his head, raising his hand to refuse it.

"It – it's alright, Miss Granger. I'll read it later, thank you."

Hermione nodded and returned the folder to its pile. Moody handed the photograph back to David.

"He must have erased you and Amy from the records sometime after I closed the case," he said, turning away and stumping back to the table. "Your friends and neighbours still remembered you when I questioned them. One woman in particular was… very upset."

He sank back into his chair, massaging his thigh above the wooden leg as he fixed both eyes on David once again. The younger man grimaced.

"I think he got rid of all trace of us after – "

He cut himself off, struggling for a moment.

"… after we escaped," he finally said, voice oddly devoid of emotion. "He knew some of us would try to go home, but he needed us to disappear entirely. He couldn't risk any word of us getting back to the Ministry, back to… to _you_ , I suppose."

He gestured wearily at Moody.

"So he made sure there was no home left to go back to," he continued, crossing his arms over his chest. "Soha tried to find her grandparents, but they'd left the country. Ollie's own brother didn't recognize him. We didn't understand the wizarding world, we didn't know there was more to the Ministry than just… Beast Division."

"So you went to the only place you could," Moody growled, sounding murderous. "The _packs_."

David shrugged helplessly, turning his gaze to the floor. The old man sighed deeply, propping his elbows on the table in front of him and running both hands down his face until his forehead rested on his palms. He glared daggers at the scarred wood beneath him.

"Is anyone else still alive?" he asked quietly. "Any of the other… _test subjects?_ "

There was a long, awkward silence. David didn't look up. Then –

"No. Ollie was the last one, apart from me, and he – "

He cut himself off, closed his eyes, drew in a long, shaking breath.

"He was one of the Reapers who got Kissed last month."

David didn't give them time to fully digest this horrible fact. He uncrossed his arms and strode purposefully to the table, tucking the precious photograph into the folder with his father's military records. Then he rested a hand on top of it.

"I don't suppose there's a way to prove it was Crowther who erased her from that photograph."

His voice was grim, his eyes hard. Moody shifted in his seat and shot him an unhappy glance.

"… no, I'm afraid not. But it might be enough to get a good reporter interested in your story."

Tonks watched David's back go rigid.

"… my _story?_ " he repeated icily.

"You said it yourself, mate," Sirius said, stepping forward. "If this is made public, the werewolf rights groups might get a lot more support. _You_ might get a lot more support."

"I want _justice_ ," the werewolf spat, turning on the older man, "not _pity_. I want fair treatment for the people in Lunar District, not another _fucking war!_ "

The last two words echoed loudly around the kitchen. David was fuming, his fists clenched at his sides.

"What d'you think is going to happen?!" he demanded angrily, glaring at Sirius. "You think everyone's going to learn the truth and just… _get along?_ Learn from it and move forward? Maybe if we lived in a bloody film, but that's not how things actually work."

He shook his head, turning away from everyone and running both hands through his hair. He stalked towards the fireplace.

"If this becomes public knowledge," he said quietly, "Lunar District will _explode_. Those people are _so_ angry, so _desperate_. Most of them are drugged out of their minds, and at this point they really don't care if they live or die. If they find out what the Ministry did…"

He shook his head, letting his hands fall back to his sides with a mirthless laugh before turning around again.

"You don't understand," he said, throwing his hands out to the sides. "Almost half the werewolves in there were infected by Reapers. And almost half the Reapers were infected by _Crowther_."

Nobody spoke for a long moment. Then Tonks drew in a sharp breath.

"… _what?_ "

He shook his head at her, eyes suddenly weary beyond belief.

"He didn't just take children," he said, chuckling as though the idea was insane. "He needed adults, too. They kidnapped people and blamed it on the packs. There were… fuck, there must have been a _hundred_ of us at one point, all in the same facility. By the time I – by the time we got out, there were barely twenty of us."

Tonks couldn't tear her eyes away from him. He looked almost apologetic.

"Reckless hatred was a prerequisite for being a Reaper," he said quietly, shrugging. "And believe me, we had that in spades. I was the last of us to join, and that was only because Greyback thought I was too young."

"Remus…" Moody interjected, forgetting the man's real name, "are you saying that what Crowther did isn't even known within the werewolf community?"

"It was fairly common knowledge in the packs," David replied, turning to the grizzled Auror. "But Beast Division has all but exterminated the old guard. Zarrar and Paddy are probably the only ones left who know the whole story, and they're too smart to spread it about."

Tonks was now properly confused. She crossed her arms.

"So… he's been threatening your sister to keep you from going public," she said slowly, brow furrowed, "but you never wanted to go public _anyway?_ "

"I don't want to be the catalyst for another bloodbath," he said firmly, almost desperately. "I was hoping to… I dunno, prosecute him in secret, or – "

"You don't think your people have a right to know about this?" she demanded.

"What _good_ would come of it?" David retorted, voice cracking. "It's done, it's over, there's no fixing it."

"Ever heard of a little thing called _closure?_ "

"Which would you rather have, Dora? Closure or peace?"

"You really think the people in Lunar District have _peace?_ "

He didn't have a response to this. His mouth settled into a thin, unhappy line and his eyes dropped to the floor. Tonks shot a helpless glance at Moody, who was watching them carefully.

"Lad…" he grunted, "if you keep this quiet, Crowther will never see justice. And the Ministry will probably never change its stance on werewolves."

The young man raised bloodshot, desperate eyes.

"… if we _don't_ keep this quiet, Lunar District will burn. They'll try to breach the perimeter, and Beast Division will rain silver down on them, just like – "

He cut himself off abruptly, turning his back on them again as his shoulders heaved. Tonks wasn't surprised when, with an angry curse, he snatched a squat, ugly vase from off the mantle and hurled it at the wall. It shattered on impact, showering the flagstones with green glass. Nobody made a sound, and Tonks could tell she wasn't the only one who had seen it coming. She was frankly impressed he'd held himself together as long as he had. The radio on the mantle warbled quietly along to _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Hippogriff_ , and she began to fear for its safety as well.

"… thanks, mate," Sirius ventured into the awkward silence. "Lils gave me that vase, and I never had the heart to tell her I hated it."

Lily let out a strangled laugh, burying her face in one hand as she shook her head. David ran shaking fingers through his hair before turning around. He was trembling from head to foot, avoiding everyone's gaze.

"… Sev," he muttered, looking at the floor near Snape's feet, "you wouldn't happen to have a…"

He lifted two fingers to his lips, gaze flickering up to his friend's face for a split second before darting away again. The older man sighed deeply, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of Muggle cigarettes. He tossed it to David, who caught it deftly. Tonks stared.

"Thanks, mate," the werewolf mumbled, flipping the pack open and pulling a cigarette out with his mouth. He made to throw the box back to Snape, but the potions master shook his head.

"They're all for you," he said. "Figured you would need them."

David snorted and jerked his head in rueful agreement. He shoved the box into his pocket, then crouched down and proceeded to light his cigarette in the fireplace. His face was alarmingly close to the flames, but as his cheeks puffed in and out and smoke billowed from his nose, Tonks got the distinct impression that he had been doing this for a very long time.

"I didn't know you smoked," she remarked as he sat back on his heels, lit cigarette dangling expertly in his left hand.

"'m not supposed to," he mumbled, eyes closed. "Sev always gets an alarm – "

A soft _ding_ sounded in the room, and Tonks looked over to see an honest-to-Merlin 'no smoking' symbol rise into the air from the tip of Snape's wand. The crossed-out cigarette glowed red in the morning light, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"Seriously?"

The black-haired man glowered at her.

"Silly as it may be, Miss Tonks," he sniped, "it keeps him from smoking three packs a day, like he used to."

She turned alarmed eyes back to the werewolf in front of the fire and he shrugged, not looking at her.

"I highly doubt it will be lung disease that gets me in the end."

Tonks drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing herself to stay put. Every bit of her wanted to walk over and snatch the cigarette out of David's hand. She comforted herself with the knowledge that – thanks to Snape – this was now a rarity.

"Get away from the fire, Remus," the ex-Death Eater warned. "If someone comes through the floo, they'll step on you."

David didn't acknowledge the words. His elbows were braced on his knees, forehead resting on the heels of his palms. The lit end of the cigarette trembled a bit closer to his hair than Tonks would have liked.

"Remus?" Snape repeated, taking a step forward.

"You can call me David, you know."

The werewolf raised his head and took another deep drag, holding the smoke in his mouth for a long moment before leaning forward and breathing it out into the fire. Tonks caught a whiff of tobacco and had to admit that it didn't smell bad. Snape had obviously splurged on a decent brand.

"… d'you _want_ me to call you David?"

The werewolf shrugged.

"'s my name. McIntyre's the one who called me Remus. There was already some pureblood arsehole in the pack named Romulus, they all thought it was hilarious. Joke's on them, though, I lived a lot longer than any of 'em."

Nobody knew what to say to this. After a moment, Tonks stepped forward and rested a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"Snape's right, you know. If anyone comes through the floo, you're going to be a David pancake."

He snorted, then finally stood up. His knees popped audibly, and he grimaced.

"… used to be able to sit like that for ages," he complained.

"Yeah, well," she teased gently, "you're an old man now."

His laugh was more genuine this time, and he shot her an affectionate glance.

"'m not _that_ old," he protested, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. He took one last drag on the cigarette, then threw it into the flames.

"Sorry," he muttered, squeezing her. "I… I needed that."

"I know," she replied, squeezing him back. The last of the smoke was escaping his nostrils, and he closed his eyes, sighing deeply. He reached up and rubbed the skin between his brows.

"I don't want anyone else to die because of me," he murmured, almost pleading with her. She steeled herself, knowing what she needed to say.

"They're dying _anyway_ , David."

His features tightened and he drew in a sharp breath through his nose. They stood there for several minutes, and Tonks could hear whispered conversations slowly breaking out behind them. She tuned the voices out, focused entirely on the werewolf next to her. He was taking deep, calming breaths, eyes closed and brow furrowed in fierce concentration. Something was going on in his head, and she had no idea what it was.

Finally, his eyes cracked open. His throat bobbed and he looked down at her, gaze unreadable.

"If I do this," he murmured, voice shaking, "you have to promise me something."

"… alright," she replied uncertainly. His gaze flickered and he turned to her, hands coming up to frame her face.

"Promise me you'll stay out of it. Stay out of Lunar District, out of Beast Division, out of… of crowded places. And if the fighting starts, _promise me you will leave_."

She stared at him, eyes wide and heart hammering.

"Re – David, I…" she stammered, shaking her head, "… I'm an _Auror_. I can't just _leave_ if people need me."

"Yes, you _can_ ," he insisted. "Get out of the country, go to New Zealand. There's a commune there, a few werewolves I know started it. They'll keep you _safe_ – "

" _David_ ," she said, grabbing the front of his shirt and gently shaking him. "There is _not_ going to be another war. And we are _not_ going to let Beast Division kill everyone in Lunar District. _That_ is a promise I can actually make. Okay?"

He dropped his gaze, breath shallow and unsteady. His hands were trembling, his skin clammy.

"Dora…" he almost sobbed, leaning his forehead against hers, "… I can't lose you, too."

She reached up and took his hands, squeezing them for all she was worth.

"You are _not_ going to lose me."

He let out a mirthless chuckle and closed his eyes.

"… that's what Soha said the day before Black put a bullet through her."

Tonks reeled, nausea almost forcing her breakfast back up. She swallowed thickly, then gritted her teeth.

"Well… good thing he's on our side this time."

This did not seem to comfort the distraught werewolf. His fingers tightened painfully around hers as he once again forgot his own strength. Tonks drew in a deep breath.

"David…" she began, hesitating for a moment before plunging forward, "… I can't promise that I won't die. But I _can_ promise that you'll never lose me."

She managed to extricate one of her hands, and she reached forward to press her fingers to the metal discs resting against his collarbone. He opened his eyes, glancing down at his father's dogtags before looking back up at her. Her lips quirked.

"You never lost _them_ , did you?"

He contemplated her for a single moment. Then, with a choked sob, he pulled her to his chest. He buried his face in her neck, and she closed her eyes and clung to him.

They stood there for several long minutes, letting the soft Christmas music and muffled conversation wash over them. Finally, they began to untangle themselves, both sniffling and wiping at their faces. David caught her watery gaze, his own eyes shining and red-rimmed, and let out a surprisingly genuine chuckle. She returned it, yanking affectionately at the front of his t-shirt.

"So…" she murmured, cocking her head. "What d'you think?"

He hesitated, drawing in a deep breath.

"I think…" he said slowly, "… that I'm the luckiest man in the world."

She raised an eyebrow.

"… how did you arrive at that unlikely conclusion?"

He smiled and lifted a thumb to her cheek, wiping the remnant of a tear away.

"I have _you_."

A lump rose in her throat, blocking the response she didn't know how to give. He didn't seem to mind her silence, however. He simply kissed her forehead, then stepped past her and walked back to the table. A stilted conversation about the rising price of dungbombs ground immediately to a halt as everyone turned to look at him. He came to a stop in front of Moody and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Alright, Alastor. This reporter friend of yours… it's not Rita Skeeter, is it?"

Moody gaped up at the werewolf for a single moment before letting out a bark of laughter. He lumbered to his feet and clapped a hand to David's shoulder, shaking his head. His magical eye whirled with fierce amusement.

"No, lad. It's not Rita bloody Skeeter."


	13. Chapter 13

"Now put out your hand and say _up!_ "

"… you cannot be serious."

David stared incredulously at Harry, both eyebrows raised. A cold wind gusted off the frozen swamp and ruffled his mop of greying hair. Tonks shivered, rubbing her gloved hands together and trying not to crack the muddy ice beneath her boots. She loved quidditch as much as the next girl, but even she had balked at the idea of a match right after lunch. If David had not been so obviously uncomfortable in the Weasley's crowded house, she might have begged off. But now that they were out in the frigid air, the tremors of withdrawal that had wracked his body throughout the morning were – ironically – fading away. With two solid meals in him, color returning to his cheeks and wearing one of Ron's old jumpers, he looked almost normal – if a bit bemused.

"It's a _broomstick_ ," he said with a derisive gesture to the Cleansweep at his feet. "It can't hear me."

Harry blinked, then cast a helpless glance at Tonks. She suppressed a smirk.

"Davie," she said, fighting to keep the amusement out of her voice, "the broom won't work if you don't say _up_. It initiates a series of diagnostic spells to make sure you're fit to fly."

"All the manufacturers have to put that in," Ginny interjected helpfully, already mounted on her own broom and hovering several metres above their heads. "Some poor sod in America got trolleyed back in the fifties and flew right into an aeroplane. Load of Muggles died."

"Don't drink and fly, kids," Bill said with a roguish wink, kicking off on a broom that appeared to be held together with spellotape. He shot almost straight up then banked sharply, coming back to hover near his sister.

"Go on, Exley!" he shouted down at the werewolf. "Show us how it's done!"

Tonks called her borrowed broomstick into her hand. The familiar slap of polished wood against her palm was a welcome comfort – a reminder of a time when her greatest concern was who was going to win the House Cup. She turned, grinning, to David. But he was still eyeing the broom at his feet with thinly veiled suspicion.

"You alright, love?"

It was a loaded question. Only a few hours earlier, he had been crying in the Grimmauld Place kitchen. Moody had barely managed to get the name _Xenophilius Lovegood_ out of his mouth before a frantic floo call from Neil Mulligan sent them scrambling. Fudge had finally caved to Crowther's demands, issuing another warrant a full two days earlier than he had promised. David had subsequently endured a very crowded portkey to the Burrow and even more of Molly's guilt-induced mothering. After the third slice of lemon cake and the second offer to _let me do something about your hair, dear, it's really quite messy_ , Harry had desperately suggested a flying lesson. Though David had leapt at the idea, Tonks had a feeling he regretted it now. He was glaring up at the various redheads in the air, shoulders stiff and fists clenched. Fred and George were doing loop-de-loops around the decrepit iron goalposts at the other end of the field.

"'m not a big fan of heights," he finally muttered, looking back down at the ground. Tonks furrowed her brow.

"But… you used to ride thestrals."

"Yeah," he said, shooting her a wry smile, "and a _thestral_ will do everything in its power to catch you if you fall off. I can't even tell you how many times Peggy saved my life."

"… you named your thestral Peggy?"

"Short for Pegasus," he said, sounding a bit defensive. "She was brilliant, she was."

"I don't doubt it," Tonks replied, smiling. "But there _is_ a failsafe on that broom. If you fall off, it will try to get underneath you. And I'll be here the whole time."

He looked up, amber eyes still uncertain. Her smile grew and she cocked her head.

"What? Don't trust me?"

"'Course I trust you," he grumbled. "I just… don't see the point."

He gestured vaguely to the sky. Tonks raised an eyebrow.

"The point of quidditch? Or the world in general?"

His only response was an unamused glare and she laughed.

"The point is to have _fun_. You remember what fun is, don't you?"

With a loud, melodramatic sigh, he turned his attention back to the broom and held out his hand.

"Up."

It quivered, rolled over, then lay still. He grimaced.

"I see the feeling is mutual," he drawled down at it.

"You don't have to do this, Professor," Harry said kindly. "Loads of people don't like flying, it's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I like _flying_ ," the werewolf insisted. "Just…"

He trailed off, lifting his gaze to where six of the seven Weasley children were now tossing the quaffle about.

"What is it, love?"

He shook himself, shooting Tonks a weak smile.

"Nothing. Come on, you over-polished heap of kindling. _Up!_ "

This time, the Cleansweep practically leapt into his waiting hand. Harry grinned.

"Brilliant, Professor! Now, you mount it like this – "

David watched the boy climb onto his Firebolt with a deadpan stare that made Snape look positively ebullient.

"Tell me, Potter – are you planning on giving your parents any grandchildren?"

Harry glanced up from his precarious seat on the now floating broomstick. Tonks valiantly swallowed an undignified guffaw. The boy just blinked.

"… sorry?"

"Never mind," the werewolf grunted, shaking his head as he threw an awkward leg over his Cleansweep. Tonks mounted her own broom, smirking as the wind carried David's muttered complaints about squashed anatomy her way.

"Comfortable?" she asked innocently, turning to him as her broomstick slowly rose off the ground. The glare he gave her would have been terrifying if she didn't know him well enough to see the humor in his eyes.

"How are there _any_ male quidditch players?" he demanded, shifting unhappily as his broom also began to hover. "This is intolerable."

"You get used to it," Harry interjected, grinning as he finally realized what his teacher was talking about. "Now, just push off the ground and – "

He was away, spiraling up into the air with an exhilarated cry. Tonks and David watched him go, the former laughing and the latter shaking his head.

"His lesson plan leaves much to be desired," the werewolf remarked drily.

"It's not that hard," Tonks informed him, laughing again when he shot her a look dripping with disbelief. "Really! Come on, give it a try."

She pushed gently off the ground, guiding her broom in a gentle circle in the air above David's head. He tracked her progress, a sly grin spreading across his face.

"See?" she called down.

"Oh, I see alright," he remarked, amber eyes alight with mischief. "In fact, I quite like this view."

Tonks blushed. She was wearing a pair of old jeans she'd found in her room at Grimmauld Place, and they hugged her backside a bit more than they used to. She could have morphed herself smaller, but there had been other things on her mind.

"Well," she said cheekily, "if you want this glorious bum of mine, you're just going to have to catch it!"

With that, she sped off over the swamp, avoiding the impromptu match that was taking form above them. Glancing back, she half expected David to still be on the ground. But there he was, flying shakily after her. His smile was rapidly solidifying into a nervous grimace, and she turned around.

"I don't like this very much," he informed her when she got within earshot. "Bloody thing's wobbly as fuck."

"You have to go faster."

" _Faster?_ "

"Otherwise you'll never get your balance."

His obvious dismay drew a bubble of laughter from her throat and she pulled her broom up next to him, reaching out to steady him.

"Most people learn to fly their first year at Hogwarts," she assured him. "It's easier then; you're not as aware of what could go wrong. But I'm not going to let you fall."

He examined her for a moment, both hands wrapped firmly around the front of his broom. Then, to her surprise, he peeled one hand off the polished wood and slid it around her waist, pulling her even closer to him in midair. His steady warmth was a welcome respite from the frigid wind.

"I know," he said simply, then kissed her. His lips were cold, his breath hot. Tonks felt condensation form on her upper lip as he lingered. His hand wandered down to her bum and gave it an experimental squeeze. Then he smiled into her mouth.

"Caught you."

" _Oy!_ "

A cheerful yell from above startled them apart. They craned their necks to see Harry and the Weasleys grinning down at them.

"No fraternizing with the enemy!" Fred called out as Ron dove to join them.

"The _enemy_?"

David had just enough time to shoot Tonks an alarmed glance before the younger werewolf was hauling him away, off to the other end of the makeshift quidditch pitch.

"Don't worry, Tonks!" Ron called out over his shoulder. "We'll take good care of him!"

She stared after them, torn between amusement and concern. David was listing to the left, still painfully uncomfortable on his broom. Even as she watched, Ron reached out and tugged him back upright. Tonks shook her head ruefully and set off to join her team.

After six years of acquaintance with David – or Remus, as she had known him until yesterday – Tonks could only point to three things he was actively bad at: reading, writing, and interacting with other human beings. At one point she might have added _charms_ , or _transfiguration_ to that list, but she suspected this was more a result of ill-fitting wands than actual magical ability. Now, however, she could confidently add another item.

David was _hopeless_ on a broomstick. He couldn't stay upright, occasionally rolling over and dangling upside down until someone came to help him. He couldn't seem to go straight, often sliding sideways through the sky like he was a Muggle car on a racetrack. And his steering left much to be desired. Finally – after a particularly harrowing encounter with one of the pine trees that bordered the swamp – the werewolf angrily yanked off his leather boots and threw them down onto the pitch below. Tonks eyed the falling shoes.

"What're you doing, love?"

He didn't respond. He simply wrapped his bare toes around the brass stirrups on the back of his broom and pushed his entire body up off the handle. It looked like an incredibly tiring way to fly a broomstick, and Tonks's thighs ached at the sight. But as he took off once again, she had to admit that he seemed a bit more in control than he had been before.

From then on, Tonks found herself worrying less and less about David plummeting to his death. He was still struggling to understand the rules and strategies of a game that everyone else had been watching and playing since birth. But he did, in fact, look like he was starting to have fun. He even scored a goal – on his own team, but nobody felt the need to point that out. When the sun began to sink towards the horizon and they called it a night, Tonks nudged her broom next to his and grinned at the sight of his flushed face, wild hair and shining eyes.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

He shrugged.

"Still not sure about this quidditch business," he said, shooting her a breathless grin, "but the broom's growing on me."

They landed next to the row of trees that led back to the house, and David patted the handle of his Cleansweep in an almost affectionate manner.

"I've never seen anyone ride like that," Tonks informed him, dismounting. "It's like you were… _perched_ on it or something."

"That's how you ride a thestral," he replied, hopping off onto the frozen ground. "You have to use your knees and body weight to tell it where to go. Turns out that doesn't work so well on a broomstick."

Tonks couldn't hold back a snigger.

"Is that why you kept flipping over?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, which only made her laugh harder.

"You looked like a grumpy sloth."

"A grumpy sloth, eh?" he repeated, face splitting into a slow grin as he stepped forward. The fingers of one hand waggled threateningly towards her side and she darted away from him.

"Oh no you don't," she laughed, holding her broom between them. "Tickling is strictly forbidden!"

"On whose authority?" he demanded, following her with mischief in his eyes.

"Mine!"

"I think you forfeited all authority when you started calling me names," he laughed, dodging around her broom and making a token effort to tickle her before wrapping his arm around her waist. They grinned at each other, breath mingling in the cold air.

"Professor! D'you want your shoes?"

They turned, startled, to the teenage girl standing several metres away. Ginny looked both embarrassed and amused, broomstick in one hand, David's boots in the other. Her brothers were landing behind her. Tonks blinked, then looked down at the werewolf's bare feet.

"Bloody hell, Re – David, your – your feet are _purple_."

He glanced down.

"Oh, yeah. I usually cast a warming charm on them, but…"

Her wand was already out, and she glared at him from under pink eyebrows.

"Next time just _ask_ me, alright? It would be incredibly stupid to lose your toes to frostbite."

He shrugged, an awkward smile on his face.

"Dora, it – it's not a big deal – "

"Yes, it _is_ ," she insisted, casting a warming charm on his exposed skin. He let out a surprised hiss and she immediately lowered the temperature.

"Sorry," she muttered, gesturing for Ginny to bring over the boots. The girl handed them to David and tactfully retreated. Putting his broom down, he pulled the boots on and knelt to tie the laces. As he did so, he shot a rueful glance up at Tonks.

"Happy now?"

She scowled.

"If I never see any part of your body looking like that again, I'll be happy."

"I'll do my best," he said with a half smile, rising to his full height again.

"Come on, lovebirds!" Bill called over his shoulder as he led the way down the row of pine trees. "Mum's making aubergine casserole!"

His siblings trailed after him, happy, exhausted, and exchanging good-natured jibes about the match. Tonks slid her hand into David's and turned to follow them. He held her back for a moment as he bent to pick up his broom, then let her lead him towards the welcoming lights of the Burrow.

They had only gone a few metres when he stopped again. The movement was abrupt, and her hand tore from his unexpectedly. She turned around, squinting in the rapidly dimming light.

"David? What's wrong?"

For something was clearly wrong. He was staring at the brightly-lit house, eyes so wide she could see white all around his irises. He had gone very, very still, the hand that had been holding hers frozen out in front of him. Tonks was dimly aware of footsteps on the snowy ground behind her.

"Davie?"

She reached for him. But a large hand came up from behind her and pulled her arm back down.

"Tonks, don't touch him."

Ron's surprisingly deep voice sounded in her ear. He eased her gently backwards. Too confused to fight, she looked up at him.

"What? Why?"

But the boy didn't respond. He stepped in front of her, hands held out to the sides in a non-threatening gesture.

"Professor?"

No response. David's eyes darted to the trees above him, then he whirled to look out over the swamp. His broom fell, unheeded, from his grip. Tonks couldn't smell fear, but she knew what it looked like. Ron tried again.

"David."

Still nothing. The ex-Reaper's chest was rising and falling in shallow, rapid breaths. He looked down at his hands – shaking violently in the gloom.

" _Remus_."

The older werewolf stiffened, almost imperceptibly. Ron inched forward.

"Remus, look at me."

For a moment, Tonks was sure his words had once more gone unheard. But then, slowly, David raised his head to lock eyes with the boy. For the first time, she registered that he was quite a bit shorter than Ron. The teenager shifted on his feet.

"D'you know where you are?"

David just stared at him, unblinking. Ron drew in a shaking breath.

"Remus… it's 1998. You're remembering something that happened sixteen years ago. Whatever's in your head right now, it's not _real_."

The boy took a tentative step forward. David immediately stepped back to compensate. Ron stopped in his tracks, still holding up his hands.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Okay? I am _not_ going to hurt you."

Still the ex-Reaper didn't respond. It was like he had forgotten how to use his vocal cords. His breathing was too fast, his eyes beginning to dart from person to person, unfocused and terrified. The diagnosis rose, unbidden, from the part of Tonks's mind that could still focus on her first responder training. He was having a panic attack.

"Slow down, love," she said firmly, stepping forward until she was standing next to Ron. "You're hyperventilating."

Unfortunately, the sight of her only made things worse. He let out a soft cry, almost throwing himself backwards. His foot caught on a tree root and he fell hard, then continued to scramble away from her like a crab. Someone – Bill, judging by the height – pulled Tonks back by the arms, and Ron stepped in front of her.

"That's _not her_ ," he hissed. "Bellatrix didn't have pink hair, dammit!"

The pieces were coming together to form a horrible picture. Tonks cast a desperate look up at Bill, and the grim set of his mouth answered her unspoken question. This was where David had killed her aunt.

Ron was on his knees now, hands held out placatingly towards the terrified werewolf.

"Come on, mate. Let's get you out of here."

But the ex-Reaper was still scrambling away, entire body shaking. They watched, helpless, as he finally clambered back to his feet.

"I'm fine," he said abruptly, voice rough, eyes fixed on the ground as he continued to back away. "I'm fine. Just… leave me alone. Leave me _alone_."

"Remus, _wait_ – "

But it was too late. He had already darted into the trees. They heard his boots crunching on the fallen pine needles for a few seconds, then the sound faded and he was gone. They stood there for nearly a minute, too shocked to say anything. Then Tonks was moving.

"Tonks, _don't_ – "

"Crowther's people are out looking for him, he can't just _run off!_ "

Ron caught her around the waist as she tried to follow the distraught werewolf. She struggled, but he was strong – unnaturally so.

"You heard him," the boy hissed. "He wants to be alone for a while, and frankly I don't blame him!"

She stopped fighting abruptly, choking back a sob. Irrational anger flooded her veins and she pounded on Ron's surprisingly muscular arm with both fists.

"Stupid _fucking_ werewolf!" she cried into the gloom. "You said you wouldn't run away, you _promised!_ "

The rage abandoned her as suddenly as it had arrived, leaving her hollow and exhausted. She swayed in Ron's arms, trying to swallow her tears. The boy cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Tonks, I… I don't think he can help it."

She closed her eyes.

"… I know."

Several long moments passed in uncertain silence. Ron clearly didn't trust her not to run off, because his grip on her did not loosen. Finally, he spoke again.

"He'll be _fine,_ Tonks. He can't apparate, remember? And the only town within walking distance is tiny and full of Muggles. He'll probably end up at the pub. We'll give him a few hours to calm down, then we'll go get him. Alright?"

She contemplated the suggestion for a moment. He continued.

"Crowther has no reason to send patrols out here. He can't possibly be watching every town in the country, and we're the _last_ people anyone will suspect of harbouring Remus bloody Lupin."

Tonks had to admit he had a point. That was the whole reason they came here in the first place. She closed her eyes, letting out a weary sigh.

"… fine," she muttered, pushing herself out of his arms. "But we're only giving him an hour."

"Fair enough."

With a final, unhappy nod, Tonks turned to find Harry and the five other Weasleys standing awkwardly a bit further down the path. She stalked past them, avoiding their sympathetic eyes as she made her way back to the Burrow.

Molly, too, was less than pleased by this turn of events.

"What d'you _mean_ , he's at the pub?!"

"Keep your hair on," Ron said, exasperated. "He just wanted some time to himself."

"Time to him – " Molly fumed, hands on her hips. "He's a wanted _fugitive_ , he can't just go to the _pub_."

"You try telling him that, mum," George said blithely as he loaded his plate full of casserole. Nobody had mentioned David's breakdown – an unspoken agreement for which Tonks was truly grateful. Moody – who they had not seen since breakfast – snorted around a mouthful of aubergine.

"He'll be fine, Molly," he grunted once he had swallowed. "After the week he's had, I'd need a drink too."

Nobody could argue with that, not even Molly. Tonks pushed food around on her plate, trying to talk herself out of worrying. David had survived thirty-three years without her, he could get through an hour at a Muggle pub on his own.

"How was the match?" Arthur asked from the other side of the table. "Did he like it?"

"He'd never been on a broom before," Harry informed him. "Spent the first half hour trying not to fall off."

Twin sniggers from Fred and George annoyed Tonks greatly, but it was Ginny who spoke up.

"I think he was doing rather well there at the end," she said, sprinkling salt on her food. "His riding style is very interesting. I was going to ask him about it but…"

She trailed off uncomfortably. Tonks jumped in.

"Apparently that's how you ride a thestral. Throwing your body weight around and all."

"Bloody terrifying, that," Moody grunted, popping open his hip flask. "I hitched a ride with him once, thought I was going to die the whole time. Those Reapers fly like they don't believe in gravity."

"I think he's actually scared of heights," Tonks remarked as she poked half-heartedly at a piece of aubergine. "But he said a thestral will do everything it can to catch you if you fall. He wasn't too keen on the broomstick at first."

"Has Dumbledore found his sister yet?" Charlie asked from the other end of the table. Moody blinked at the abrupt change in topic, then took a deep swig from his flask.

"No," he grunted, wiping his mouth. "The familial spells turned up nothing, he's not related to any of the children at Hogwarts."

This was met with general disappointment. Tonks narrowed her eyes at her boss.

"So… what's the next move?"

Moody scowled at her.

"Don't you think _he_ has the right to know that before you do?"

She had no response to this. She looked back at her dinner and stabbed a green bean like it had personally offended her.

"So…" Bill began hesitantly, "… run us through the plan again. Once you find his sister, you're going to publish his story in the Quibbler?"

"No. We're going to publish it in the Prophet."

Hermione almost choked on a sip of water. She turned incredulously to the old man.

"… the _Prophet?_ " she repeated, eyes watering. "They'll – " she coughed again, "they'll _never_ publish something like that! The Ministry practically _owns_ the Prophet, Fudge's office approves everything before they print."

"I know," the grizzled Auror said simply. They waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. Tonks felt her frustration mounting.

"There are no spies here, Mad Eye," she growled. "You can tell us the plan."

Moody examined her for a long moment, wheels turning behind his mismatched eyes. Then he opened his mouth.

"We have an inside man. One of the printers. He thinks he can get the article into the final print without anyone seeing it until it's too late."

Tonks furrowed her brow.

"If he gets caught, they'll fire him. Why is he helping us?"

"You'd be surprised how many people owe Lupin a favour," the old man said gruffly. "Most of them don't even realize it. Luckily, this bloke does."

The table lapsed into contemplative silence. The only sounds were the clink of cutlery on ceramic. Tonks forced herself to take a bite of casserole. It felt like ash in her mouth. David was alone right now, probably still reliving the moment he had killed Bellatrix. She wondered how he had done it. From her research, she knew that her Aunt Bella had been a brilliant duelist, rivaling even Voldemort in her ability to dispatch her enemies. David was easily the best fighter Tonks had ever known – she had never seen him lose a duel, not even in the Auror training room. But was he good enough to defeat someone in Voldemort's league? Or had he employed trickery, as he was so wont to do? Had he convinced her that he was there to help, then stabbed her the moment her back was turned? She hated to admit it, but that seemed more likely. David was brave enough to be a Gryffindor, yet more cunning than any Slytherin she had ever met.

"Oy! Tonksy!"

Tonks jumped, dropping her fork with a clatter. Charlie was looking down at her, his plate in his hand. Everyone else was clearing the table. She must have been lost in thought for quite a while.

"We're going to the pub," the young man said gently, jerking his head in the direction of the door. "You're coming, right?"

She nodded fiercely, standing up and bringing her almost full plate to the rubbish bin. Molly shot her a concerned glance and Tonks grimaced.

"Sorry," she muttered. "Wasn't hungry."

"I've put some food under a stasis charm for your young man," the plump woman said briskly, pointing to a plate on the counter that was piled high with casserole and boiled vegetables. "Make sure he eats it, will you?"

Tonks nodded wordlessly, then turned to follow Charlie, Bill and Fleur into the hall. Harry, Ron and Hermione followed them.

"Ginny!" the Weasley matriarch called out from the kitchen. "Come back this instant, you're not old enough to drink!"

"Aw, _mum_ …"

As an argument ensued, Tonks pulled a borrowed coat over David's jumper, wrapping a multicolored scarf around her neck. Lengthening her hair so it covered her ears, she pushed open the door and stepped out into the frigid night air.

The others filed onto the front steps beside her. Charlie offered her an arm.

"Want a lift?" he offered with a tentative smile. She contemplated him for a moment. She didn't know where this pub was, which made apparating difficult. And he seemed to be making a genuine effort to be less of an arse. She gave him a small smile in return and linked her arm through his.

The familiar _crack_ and squeezing sensation, and suddenly they were standing in a field on the outskirts of a small town. Stone cottages lay nestled along a frozen stream, roofs covered in fresh snow and twinkling with Christmas lights. Most of the windows were lit, and the distant sound of a busy pub drifted through the air. Despite the temperature, it was rather a cozy sight.

They trudged down the road, avoiding lines of muddy slush left behind by the few automobiles that had braved the weather that day. It didn't take long to reach the pub – a squat, ancient little building tucked between two lines of row houses. Ivy climbed its stone walls, and a sign swinging above the door was half covered in snow. Tonks could make out the word _Bellows_ curving along the bottom in faded gold lettering.

Bill led the way, pushing his way inside without hesitation. Tonks followed and was immediately hit by a blast of hot air. The building was full to the rafters, fireplaces roaring in every room. Men and women milled about, talking and laughing and downing large pints of ale. Despite – or perhaps due to – the stress of the last few days, Tonks found herself relaxing into the familiar atmosphere of a happy pub. She pushed her way inside, looking for David.

The search took quite a while. By the time she spotted the werewolf – firmly ensconced in the corner furthest from the door with his head in his hands and an empty glass in front of him – she had already started to panic, formulating a search plan in her head so they could find him on the moors before he froze to death. As it was, she came to a stop in front of him and placed her hands on her hips.

"You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days. You know that, right?"

It took longer than it should for him to look up. A few Muggles sitting near him glanced at the irate young woman and discreetly found other places to be. When David finally raised his head, his expression was oddly languid, his eyes alarmingly unfocused.

"… Dora?"

Tonks stared. Was he… _drunk?_ She didn't realize she had voiced the question until he was answering her with a scoff.

"… 'course not. Only had three o' these, barkeep won't give me more on a tab."

He poked unhappily at his empty glass, and Tonks took a long, calming breath. He was ill, exhausted, and coming off several days without food. Three shots of whiskey would absolutely get him drunk. Knowing him, he had downed them so fast he hadn't had time to realize they were affecting him more than usual.

She sat down next to him and took his face in her hands. To her surprise, he let her.

"David…" she trailed off, completely at a loss. What could she say that would make him feel the least bit better? He just stared at her, amber eyes bloodshot and bleary. She drew a breath, hesitated, then spoke.

"I forgive you."

The words seemed to vibrate between them. The din of the pub faded into the background as Tonks watched his reaction intently. He blinked at her.

"… s- sorry?"

"I forgive you," she repeated firmly, feeling more confident. "For what you did to her."

He pulled free of her hands, turning away with a jerky, uncoordinated movement.

"… you don't know what you're saying."

"Yes, I do," she said fiercely, clenching her fists to keep herself from reaching for him again. "I know exactly what I'm saying."

"You don't even know what I did to her!" he hissed, looking back at her with eyes full of fire. She raised her chin.

"You could _tell_ me."

He glared at her for a long moment, nostrils flared and chest heaving. She met his gaze steadily, unblinking. He broke first, looking back at the scarred wooden table in front of them and crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

"… if I tell you, you'll never look at me the same way again."

Her breath caught and he closed his eyes.

"You'll be just like everyone else. You won't want anything to do with me."

She contemplated this statement for a moment, then cocked her head.

"Plenty of people know the details of what you've done and still care about you."

He didn't respond. She continued.

"Look at Moody. And Snape, and Dumbledore."

He let out a strangled chuckle and opened his eyes. She was shocked by the amount of pain he was able to convey with one look.

"They don't _care_ about me, Dora," he whispered, shaking his head. "They _owe_ me. There's a difference."

Tonks wasn't so sure about that, but she could tell it was not an argument she was going to win this time around. She drew a breath, but he was already speaking.

"You're the first person since Soha to actually give a shit just because it's _me_. And I know it's 'cause you don't actually understand who I was, what I did, but I…"

He struggled, throat bobbing as he ducked his head. His hands were trembling in his lap.

"… I don't wanna lose that," he finally choked out. Tonks stuffed her hands between her knees to keep them away from his and drew in a sharp breath.

"I actually find that rather insulting, you know."

He blinked, a line forming between his brows. When he looked up, she met his gaze head on.

"You don't think I can handle the truth?"

He stared at her. Then, to her surprise, he let out an uncharacteristic giggle. She raised an eyebrow and he shook his head, raising a hand to rub at his eyes.

"Sorry – sorry. That's… you're quoting a film you've probably never seen before."

The bubble of mirth left him and his shoulders slumped, head bowed again. Tonks hesitated, then finally allowed herself to reach out and slip her hand into his. She squeezed his thumb.

"Tell me."

He looked at their joined hands for a long moment. Then he opened his mouth.

"I strangled her."

A lead weight settled in the bottom of Tonks's stomach, but she didn't react. His throat bobbed.

"I really tried to talk her out of it. I knew there were children in the house, I knew what she was capable of. I couldn't _reason_ with her, she wasn't even making _sense_ at that point. Just rambling on about her Lord's orders, and her duty as a pureblood. I reminded her that _I_ wasn't pureblood and she just… patted my cheek. Said I was her favorite mudblood, that she would always look after me. Then she started walking towards the house and I just…"

He trailed off, mouth open in deep, rasping breaths. His eyes were wide and fixed, unseeing, on the table in front of him. Several seconds passed, and his breathing got faster. Alarm raced down Tonks's spine and she took his face in her hands again.

"David? _David!_ "

He tried to pull away from her and suddenly Ron was on the other side of the table, amber eyes fixed on the older werewolf.

" _Lupin_ ," he hissed, hands braced on the scarred wood as he leaned forward. " _Calm. Down._ "

To her immense surprise, David did. He stilled, blinking in confusion as his breathing slowed. His body relaxed under her hands and she looked up at Ron, bewildered. How on earth had he done that?

The boy didn't spare a glance for her. He and the ex-Reaper were locked in a staring match of sorts. Again, David broke first. He turned exhausted eyes to the empty glass on the table and Ron finally looked over at Tonks. He gave her a curt, grim nod, then turned away. He retreated to a table in the opposite corner, where the others had congregated. Tonks stared after him, shocked by their thoughtfulness. Charlie caught her eye and gave her a tentative, encouraging smile. His eyes flickered to the stunned werewolf at her side before returning to Fleur who seemed to be telling them all a story, her hands animating it elegantly.

A shaking intake of breath called her attention back to David. He was glaring at his empty glass like it had insulted his honor. She cleared her throat.

"We don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want to."

He sighed wearily, closing his eyes and bowing his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers in a familiar, weary gesture.

"To be honest, I don't actually remember many of the details," he murmured. "It was brutal and fast and it's all sort of a… blur. Only thing I really remember is pinning her to the ground, my hands around her neck."

His hand fell to join the other in his lap. They were oddly steady now.

"I don't know how long I sat there with her body. Hours, probably. Long enough for her to bruise."

His eyes slowly tracked up her torso, landing on her throat before darting away again. A muscle twitched in his jaw. Silence descended. For several minutes, the raucous sounds of the pub enveloped them. Tonks was glad for the rowdy, shouting Muggles. They kept her silence from suffocating them both.

She didn't know what to say. She wasn't a therapist, she wasn't a healer. She couldn't fix this. Kingsley's words from only two nights earlier echoed in her mind – _that's not your job. It's his_.

So she did the only thing she could. She reached out and took his hand. Then she brought it up to her neck and held it there, pressing his clammy palm into her skin. Her fading bruises protested; her heartrate spiked as she remembered her own brush with death. But when his eyes locked – wide and disbelieving – with hers, she clenched her jaw and reached for his other hand. This, too, she pressed to her neck. Then she lifted her chin, daring him to pull away.

"I'm not a raving lunatic on her way to murder a load of children. Therefore, I see no reason to fear you."

He stared at her for nearly a minute, clearly in shock. Then his lips quirked and he was chuckling. Then his eyes filled and he was crying.

Tonks wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, curling one hand around the back of his head as he buried his face in her shoulder and sobbed. He clutched at her jumper with shaking fingers. It was far from the first time he had cried in her arms – in fact, Tonks was starting to lose count. But there was something different about this, something wild and unrestrained. She suspected it had something to do with his state of inebriation. But as the minutes passed and he began to exhaust himself, wet face pressed against her collarbone, Tonks felt like a door had finally opened to her – one that had been locked for a very long time.

Finally, he pulled his head back just enough so he could look at her. There, again, was that expression of reverence. Tonks smiled at him.

"Wotcher."

A genuine chuckle graced his lips and he replied, voice hoarse.

"… wotcher, yourself."

She traced her fingertips along his cheekbones, wiping tears away as she went.

"I really do love you, you know."

His throat bobbed and his gaze flickered.

"You probably shouldn't."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"The _appropriate_ response, Mr. Exley, is to say _I love you, too_."

A slow smirk spread across his face and he snorted.

"… I love you too, dear."

She smirked back at him.

"That's better. Now. D'you want another drink?"

He blinked at her. Red-rimmed eyes were slowly filling with a calm, steady joy.

"… I'd love another drink."

She leaned in and kissed him. He melted into her, the taste of whiskey and tears on his lips. Then she scooched around the table and got to her feet.

"How were you planning on paying for these?" she teased, pointing to the empty glass in front of him. He shrugged, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Knew you'd come find me eventually. I had to give him my dogtags as collateral though, can you get them?"

"'Course," she said, returning the smile easily. "D'you want to stay here, or…?"

She gestured to the table the others had claimed. He looked over, and Tonks saw several of her companions glance his way.

"We don't have to," she assured him. "They're fine, it's just an option."

"No, let's join them," he said, turning back to her. "You'll have more fun."

She gave him a pointed look and he laughed.

"Go get drinks, woman."

She rolled her eyes affectionately and headed for the bar. Shouldering her way through the crowd, the barkeep caught sight of her immediately. He was an older man, thin and grey-haired, with dark skin and the implacable gaze of a lifelong publican. As she reached him, he glanced over at David.

"He alright?" he asked, jerking his chin at the young man. She blinked and looked back. David was looking around in bemused interest, as though he were only just now realizing that the pub was full of other people.

"He's fine," she said, turning back to the barkeep with a smile. "He's had a hell of a week."

"Yeah, I can tell," the old man said gruffly, pouring her another glass of whiskey without being asked. "Looked like death warmed over when he came in, I was just about to give him another drink on the house."

Her heart swelled and her smile softened.

"… thank you."

He looked up and she elaborated.

"For looking after him."

"'s my job," the man grunted, shrugging. "People come here for two reasons – to have a good time or forget something. I've been doing this long enough to tell the difference the moment they walk through the door."

He placed the whiskey on the bar in front of her.

"What are you having?"

She contemplated the taps in front of her.

"Pint of Cascade Pale, please."

He went to pull the ale, and Tonks plunged her hand into the pocket of her jeans. Now that she was thinking about it, she might not have any muggle money either…

"Need some help?"

She looked up. There was Charlie again, smiling down at her. She raised an eyebrow.

"You're being remarkably reasonable tonight."

He shrugged, smile turning into more of a grimace.

"Just making up for lost time," he muttered, turning to the barkeep as the man returned with her beer. "How much does she owe you?"

"Twelve sixty."

Charlie handed over a few bills and received some change. Tonks watched unhappily. The Weasleys were far from well off.

"I'll pay you back, mate," she said quietly as they turned away from the bar. He laughed.

"Tonks, mum gave me fifty quid before we left, told me to buy Lupin as much alcohol as he wants. She'd have my hide if you paid me back."

Tonks let out a huff of laughter and shook her head.

"Well, I think this should be his last drink for the night," she said, lifting the whiskey in her hand. "He's not in great shape, it's going straight to his head."

"Yeah, I know."

She shot him a confused glance. How did _he_ know? She couldn't ask him though, they were already closing in on David's table. He looked up as they approached, and Tonks suddenly remembered his dogtags.

"Oh shit."

She turned to Charlie, shoving the drinks into his hands.

"Take these, will you? I forgot something."

She hurried back to the bar. The old man was waiting for her with a knowing expression, chain dangling from his fingers. She shot him a grateful smile.

"Thanks mate," she said as he placed the dogtags in her palm. He nodded and turned to the next customer. By the time she fought her way back through the crowd, Charlie had stewarded David over to join the others in the alcove they had claimed. The ex-Reaper had managed to maneuver himself into yet another corner, pressing his back up against where the stone wall met the back of the wooden bench. As Tonks approached, Harry and Charlie stood up so she could slide in next to him. She gave him his dogtags with a soft smile that was gratefully returned.

"Thank you," he murmured, pulling them back over his head and tucking them beneath his jumper. She squeezed his knee, then picked up her beer and took a deep, appreciative drink. His arm settled around her shoulders, his warmth spreading up her left side, and she let out a relieved sigh. This felt right, this felt _good_.

Nobody spoke of what had happened. In fact, nobody spoke about anything of any real importance. Quidditch debate meandered into discussions of the twins' newest joke products, then Fleur tried to teach French to a tipsy Hermione whilst Ron looked on with a sappy, adoring smile. Bill regaled Harry with tales of his curse-breaking years, and Charlie told them all about the baby Chinese Fireball he'd caught with his bare hands. Drinks flowed freely, and David was switched to an ale with less than three percent alcohol. He didn't seem to mind, drinking quietly in the corner, occasionally laughing along with everyone else but offering no words of his own. Tonks, too, found herself uncharacteristically silent. After the chaos and drama of the last few days, it was a rare treat to just sit and let others do the talking.

Nearly two hours passed in warm conversation and the pub quieted down until only a staunch collection of locals remained, clustered around various tables and fireplaces. Tonks – peaceful and a bit tipsy – began to nod off against David's shoulder. She felt his lips on her forehead, and the table gradually went silent. Then –

"'m sorry, mate."

David stiffened beneath her, and Tonks's eyes fluttered open. She blinked up at him, then slowly raised her head to look at Bill. The man's mouth was set in a grim line, his blue eyes fixed on the werewolf in the corner. David cleared his throat.

"… wh- what? Why?"

"I should've brought us back a different way. I should've realized…"

David drew in a sharp breath, shifting in his seat as he shook his head.

"Bill, it – it's fine. Really, don't… don't worry about it."

The eldest Weasley boy made a face, both hands wrapped around his half-full pint.

"It wasn' fair," he slurred unhappily, betraying how much ale he had consumed, "what they made you do."

David didn't respond, his face carefully blank. His arm tightened around Tonks's shoulders.

" _All_ of 'em," Bill continued with an angry gesture. "Voldemort, the Order, the Ministry, all of 'em. They all took advantage of you."

Everyone else suddenly seemed very interested in the contents of their glasses. David seemed to consider Bill's statement before replying.

"… I suppose they did," he finally said, taking a placid sip of ale. "And I've hated them all for fifteen years."

He put his glass down on the table and twisted it around with his fingers, examining its swirling contents with surprisingly clear eyes. He drew in a deep breath.

"It takes an awful lot of energy to hate someone for that long," he murmured. "It takes effort, and dedication. It eats you up inside and leaves you with nothing."

He glanced up, looking around the table with the ghost of a smile on his face.

"I really wouldn't recommend it."

He retreated behind his pint again. There was a short silence. Then Hermione drew in a breath.

"Professor, I've been meaning to ask you…" she hesitated, eyes darting to Ron and back. David put his glass down.

"It's alright, Miss Granger," he said steadily. "I already know what you're going to ask."

She grimaced, clearly embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I – when Ron was diagnosed, I bought every book on werewolves I could find."

"I am somewhat less than surprised."

"Yes, well," the girl shifted awkwardly in her seat, eyes now fixed on the table, "most of them were complete rubbish, but they all seemed to agree on one thing."

"Oh?"

"Lycanthropy will affect Ron differently," she said, glancing up at him hesitantly, "simply because he's pureblood."

David drew in a long breath, then held it for a moment before letting it out in a rush. His shoulders slumped and he pulled his arm out from behind Tonks. He leaned forward and braced his forearms on the table, twirling his glass around with both hands now.

"That's correct," he said softly. "Purebloods are… better adapted to the disease. Ron's transformations will be less painful, and he will recover faster. He'll also be physically stronger than I am. Probably is already."

He cast an awkward look at the boy sitting on the other side of Tonks. Ron didn't seem too surprised by his words, indicating that Hermione had already informed him of the same.

"Why?" Tonks demanded, brow furrowed. "Why does it matter?"

David held a hand out to Hermione, deferring to her. The girl took a deep breath, then spoke.

"Lycanthropy wasn't always seen as a curse," she informed them, a slight slur in her speech pattern the only sign she had been drinking. "A thousand years ago, some of the old wizarding families saw it as a mark of power. They used to purposefully infect their children on their tenth birthday."

" _What?_ " Tonks hissed. "That's barbaric!"

Hermione shrugged.

"It was tradition. As you can imagine, only the strongest survived long enough to have children of their own, and even _they_ couldn't have that many. It only took a few generations before pureblood witches and wizards were uniquely adapted to handle the disease. The tradition was abandoned over five hundred years ago and subsequent historians tried to pretend it never happened. But the traits are still passed down in pureblood families to this day."

Tonks stared incredulously at the girl.

"Is… is that why there are different doses of aconite and silver?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded.

"That's also why Ron can order me around when I've had a few," David grunted, not looking at anyone. Tonks blinked.

"… what?"

He shot her an unhappy glance.

"'member earlier, when he told me to calm down? Purebloods have been pack alphas for generations. Literally a thousand years. Unless I'm really paying attention, an order from someone who smells like Ron is just… _obeyed_. It's an instinct, one I haven't had to fight in a long time."

Tonks gaped at him, speechless. Then she turned to Ron, who looked exceedingly uncomfortable.

"… 'm sorry, mate," he mumbled. "I promise I won't do it again, you just… you were losing it, and I didn't know what else to – "

"'s alright, Ron," David said, holding up a hand. "It's alright. You did the right thing, I _was_ losing it. I'll, erm… try not to give you reason to do it again."

The boy shot him a tight smile, and they both looked away. There was a short, awkward silence. Then –

"So, Ron's stronger than you are?"

Fred sounded positively gleeful. David let out a bark of surprised laughter.

"Yes, he probably is."

Twin smiles focused on the youngest Weasley boy, and Ron's ears went red.

"Our little brother –

" – stronger than a Reaper!"

"I'm so proud – "

"I'm prouder – "

"Oh, shut up," Ron mumbled, burying his face in his pint glass. Tonks snorted, and David chuckled beside her.

Slowly, conversation returned to other things and everyone's attention shifted away from the ex-Reaper. His arm went back around Tonks's shoulders and she burrowed further into his chest. He had all but given up on his half-finished beer, and she pulled his other hand into her lap, playing absently with his warm, calloused fingers. Another hour drifted by, and before they knew it last order was being called. Tonks glanced up from her comfortable position, nestled into David's armpit, to find him fast asleep, forehead resting against the stone wall. His mouth was slightly open, the lines of pain and worry that pulled at his face smoothed away by slumber and alcohol. He looked younger than she could bear, and she didn't want to wake him.

Neither, it seemed, did the others. They lingered, still talking, until even the last of the locals began to leave. One of these – a large, obviously pissed young man with a red beard and muddy boots – knocked his chair over as he stood up. The wood hit the stone floor with a loud _crack_ and David jerked awake so violently he shook the table. He threw a hand out in front of him in a familiar gesture, but Tonks grabbed his wrist and forced herself into his line of vision.

"No magic!"

He stared at her, eyes wide and uncomprehending. Then he blinked and realized where he was.

"… right. S- sorry."

He settled back into his corner, looking shaken. It was time to leave. Everyone shuffled out of the booth, donning coats and hats. David stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. Tonks looked him up and down, smirking at the giant red _R_ on the front of his borrowed jumper. As if reading her thoughts, Charlie spoke.

"I hope you're prepared for a Weasley jumper of your own, mate," he said with a rueful grin. "I saw mum getting out the blue and bronze yarn before we left."

"Blue and bronze?" Harry repeated as they started for the door. "Shouldn't it be red and gold?"

Tonks shook her head in amused exasperation, raising a hand to bid the old barkeep farewell as they stepped out into the freezing night. It was snowing again – a gentle flurry of large white flakes that settled over the sleeping village like a blanket.

"No offense, Professor," George was saying, "but I still think you're a Slytherin. Us Gryffindors are far too dumb to be spies."

"Pettigrew was a Gryffindork."

"My point exactly," the boy said, rubbing his gloved hands together to warm them. "He lasted what, two months before you figured him out?"

"I didn't figure him out," David growled. "I _killed_ him."

There was an awkward silence. Then George sallied forth again.

"Yes, well. Because he was a spy for Voldemort."

"I didn't kill him because he was a spy. I killed him because he was an evil little creep who used to drug my friends and _rape_ them."

This time, the silence was less awkward and more horrified. It also lasted a lot longer. They had almost reached the edge of the village before anyone came up with a response.

"… oh."

Tonks had to give George credit. That was more than she could say at the moment. David seemed to realize he had overstepped a boundary.

"… sorry," he muttered. "Thinking about him always makes me… angry."

"I can see why," George replied immediately.

"Frankly," David said with the forced enthusiasm of someone who was trying to change the subject, "I don't really understand everyone's obsession with the Hogwarts Houses. Even if that minger of a hat could actually diagnose a person's soul in the space of thirty seconds, that doesn't mean that everyone fits neatly into those four boxes. 'Sides, the only people who don't change after the age of eleven are either trying not to, or in a coma. Seems rather unfair to foist those stereotypes on children, 'specially the ones who get sorted into Slytherin."

There was another stunned silence. Then Charlie laughed.

"Tell us how you _really_ feel, mate."

David ducked his head, and Tonks slipped her hand into his. Now that they had the man finally talking, it seemed he had quite a lot to say.

"I actually agree with you, Professor," Hermione said from in front of them, where she was walking between Harry and Ron. "I think the House system is rather outdated, and it probably does more harm than good."

"If you lot were actually encouraged to _talk_ to the Slytherins instead of antagonize them," David said, kicking at the snow at his feet, "it might do all of you a favour. Instead, they're left to their own devices to get nastier and more elitist, and you Gryffindorks are left to become… well…"

"Yes?" Bill asked, eyebrows raised and face split with a grin. "What do we become?"

The werewolf shook his head.

"… never mind."

More than a few people laughed at this.

"Come on, mate, you can't just leave it there," Ron said over his shoulder. "What do we become?"

David rolled his eyes, shooting Tonks a helpless glance as he drew in a deep breath.

"Frankly, you become intolerably righteous and heroic to the point of idiocy. If I see one more Gryffindor first year throw themselves into the path of a bat-bogey hex meant for one of their friends – "

"Oh come on, that only happened once – "

"Actually, I did that too – "

"And Ginny – "

"The point _is_ ," David said firmly, lips twitching, "that a Slytherin would probably just learn the counter-hex and _use_ it. Better yet, they wouldn't put themselves in that kind of situation in the first place."

"Or they would be the ones _casting_ the bat-bogey hex," Harry pointed out stubbornly. David shrugged.

"Maybe. But keep in mind that a lot of your classmates are the children of Death Eaters. They didn't choose to be who they are, any more than you did. But they get abused for it on a regular basis. When the world has already decided you're a terrible person, it's very hard not to become one."

The group was silent for several minutes, the only sound their boots trudging through the snow. They had left the warm lights of the village streetlamps and were now traversing the moor that led down into the swamp. It was a clear night, and the stars of the Milky Way stretched dramatically across the sky above them. The wind was cold on Tonks's cheeks, David's hand warm in hers.

"What's your honest opinion on Hufflepuffs?"

Her sudden question drew a burst of laughter from him.

"Hufflepuffs?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling up at him. "I know how you feel about Gryffindorks and Slytherins, now tell me about _my_ house."

He grinned down at her, ignoring the sniggers coming from the others. He dropped her hand so he could wrap his arm tightly around her shoulders, and she brought her arm up to hug his waist.

"Would you accuse me of bias if I told you that Hufflepuffs are my favorite?"

"… maybe a _little_ bit biased."

He laughed, squeezing her.

"I will say, Hufflepuffs always seem to smell a bit like skunk."

She looked up in alarm.

" _Skunk_?!"

He winced.

"Sorry, northern term for marijuana."

She gaped at him for a single moment. Then she doubled over with helpless laughter. She laughed so hard she finally gave up on standing and just flopped over into the snow. His deep chuckle sounded from above her, and she felt him prod her boot gently with his own.

"What? It's true! D'you lot burn it in your fireplace or something?"

She finally began to calm down, throwing her hands out to the sides in a haphazard attempt at a snow angel. She grinned up at him.

"… or something."

His smile turned soft, his eyes appraising in the starlight. The others seemed to have moved on without them. Her grin turned mischievous.

"Hey David…"

"Yes?"

She couldn't actually make a snowball without ruining the element of surprise, but she managed to fling quite a lot of loose powder in his direction before he could dodge out of the way. He shouted with laughter, stumbling to the side and reaching down for his own ammunition.

"Oy!" he cried. "Don't start something you can't finish!"

"Oh, I fully intend to finish this!"

His first snowball was wildly off target. But his second hit her full in the chest. She retaliated with several of her own, thrown in quick succession. They stumbled around in the snow for quite some time, laughter ringing out in the cold air as they covered each other from head to foot in fluffy white powder. Finally, hands frozen and dripping, they declared mutual triumph. He pulled her to him, lifting her off her feet and kissing her breathless.

"… you didn't sic a load of snowballs at my head, like you did Charlie," he gasped when they finally broke apart. She giggled.

"Yeah, well, I didn't think it was fair to use magic against you when you can't retaliate. Don't worry, next time I won't hold back."

She cast warming and drying charms on their hands and clothing. Then she wrapped her multicolored scarf around his neck and led him down the hill after the others.

By the time they reached the Burrow, the only light in the house was the dying fire in the kitchen. Everyone was already upstairs – everyone except Fleur. When they stumbled in, moving as quietly as they could across the creaking floorboards, she rose from the table and smiled.

"Here," she said, walking towards David and holding out a large, wrought iron key. "This is for the greenhouse."

He blinked.

"The… greenhouse?"

"Yes," she nodded, smile growing. "Molly spent this evening cleaning it up for you and making it cozy."

"… oh. Right, erm…"

He took the key, glancing uncertainly at Tonks before turning back towards the front door.

"It's, uh… it's the one out by the flowerbeds, yeah?"

"I'm sure Tonks can show you," Fleur said, shooting the younger woman a mischievous smile before she practically floated out the kitchen door and up the stairs. Tonks shook her head after her, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. Meddlesome veela…

She turned around to find Remus looking up the stairs in bewildered confusion.

"She's… odd."

"I know, right?" Tonks said with a rueful smile. "Come on, let's go see this greenhouse."

They braved the cold for another minute as David fiddled with the lock on the door of the disheveled old greenhouse. The little glass shack looked no different than it ever had in all of Tonks's visits to the Burrow. But when the door finally swung open, a burst of warm air hit their faces, lights flickered to life, and Tonks gasped.

Fairy lights illuminated a cozy little space packed to the ceiling with plants of all shapes and sizes. Greenery climbed the walls and enormous flowers seemed to bend at the waist, their petals drooping towards the floor. It smelled wonderful – like earth and warmth and life. Tonks and David walked further in, letting the door shut quietly behind them.

Molly had equipped the small room with a suitably small fireplace – an eternal flame flickering happily in a glass jar. Beside this, she had conjured a bed covered in a worn quilt. Tonks turned to David, grinning.

"This is _brilliant_."

He smiled back at her, yet his eyes were uncertain.

"Yes, it – it is."

He hesitated, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

"Where, uh… where are _you_ sleeping?"

Her grin softened and she stepped closer.

"Where would you _like_ me to sleep?"

He let out a breathless chuckle.

"Erm…"

His voice cracked on the syllable, and Tonks couldn't help but laugh. Her hands came up to rest on his stomach, fingers tangling in his jumper. She nuzzled her nose against his and heard his breath catch.

"D'you want to… stay here?"

She smiled against his lips, and answered him with a kiss.


	14. Chapter 14

“You’ve a blown head gasket. The oil shouldn’t be this color.”

David was rubbing milky brown liquid between his fingers, bent over the open bonnet of Arthur Weasley’s prized Ford Anglia. Arthur himself was peering over his shoulder at the engine, brow furrowed.

“What color should it be? What’s a head gasket?”

The werewolf looked up at him, one eyebrow raised.

“Something tells me you’ve never had this in for an MOT.”

“What’s an Emohtee?”

Tonks valiantly held back a snort of laughter. The look on David’s face was priceless.

“Have you been driving this thing around?”

The red-haired man had the sense to look chagrined.

“… erm, well… not exactly…”

“He’s been _flying_ it,” Ron interjected helpfully from the other side of the shed where he was poking buttons on a microwave. “Dad, this tellyvision’s not working either.”

“That’s not a television,” David sighed, not sparing a glance for the boy as he turned back to the car. He braced his oil-stained hands on either side of the bonnet and appraised the rusting engine.

“Last time I took it up,” Arthur explained, wringing his hands together, “it almost dropped out of the sky above Ottery St. Catchpole. It’s a good job I was wearing my seatbelt or I’d have broken my neck.”

His eyes widened and he whipped his head around to look out the open door. Tonks turned to follow his gaze, finding only the garden and the Burrow in the distance, all covered in a thick layer of glittering, sunlit snow. Arthur deflated in obvious relief.

“Molly doesn’t know,” he whispered conspiratorially, turning back to David. “You won’t tell her, will you?”

The werewolf let out a bark of surprised laughter.

“Your secret’s safe with me, mate. But you shouldn’t be driving it – or _flying_ it – in this condition. May I?”

He gestured to the engine. Arthur blinked at him, looked at the car, then turned back.

“D’you know how to fix it?” he asked eagerly. David shrugged.

“Aye, reckon so. Might have to pop t’ village for some tools, though.”

Arthur raised a finger, then dashed to a nearby broom cupboard and threw the door open with a flourish. Muggle tools and bits of machinery burst from captivity and rained onto the wooden floor in a cacophony of noise. David cast a bewildered glance at Tonks, and she hid a smile behind her hand. Mr. Weasley was nothing if not enthusiastic.

“Muggles really are a strange lot,” he remarked jovially, bending down to pick up what looked like a rubber ball that had been cut in half. “They throw all their rubbish into giant heaps, instead of vanishing it. I’ve found the most fascinating things in the tip outside town.”

“That’s a toilet plunger,” David informed him drily, pointing at the rubber object. “I wouldn’t touch it if I were you.”

Arthur dropped it unceremoniously, wiping his fingers on the front of his jumper.

“Oh. Well. Is any of this useful?”

The werewolf took a step forward, examining the mess on the floor intently.

“Ah!”

Leaning down, he grabbed a long metal tool that Tonks might have been able to name if she’d been paying any attention when her father tried to ‘teach her some valuable muggle skills’.

“This’ll do for starters,” David said, turning back to the car. “Need to get the cylinder head off…”

He disappeared back under the hood, and Arthur hurried over to watch. Even Ron joined them, looking intrigued. Tonks shook her head fondly and started forward, coming around the side of the Ford Anglia’s open bonnet.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said, bending down to deposit a kiss on David’s bearded cheek. He looked at her, eyes suddenly guilty.

“Shit, sorry love,” he exclaimed, starting to stand up. “I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

She laughed, gesturing to the engine.

“Davie, it’s fine. You’re clearly in your happy place.”

He shrugged again, looking rueful.

“I like machines. They make sense.”

“Where’d you learn how to fix cars?” Ron asked, leaning against the other side of the bonnet.

“I worked as a mechanic for a few years after the War,” David replied, stooping back down and latching the tool onto one of the many rusted bolts. “Might still be doing it if Albus hadn’t all but frog-marched me to Hogwarts.”

He hauled on the metal tool, straining against the ancient engine. Tonks watched appreciatively as muscles shifted under the tattooed skin of his forearms. Those arms had been wrapped around _her_ last night…

She shook herself, suddenly feeling quite warm. David paused in his work and glanced her way, eyebrows quirking mischievously. She narrowed her eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing to her.

“I’ll be in the house,” she informed him with a smirk. “Try not to blow anything up, will you?”

“I make no promises.”

Tonks reached the door and looked back, unsurprised to find him standing again, watching her. His eyes darted up from where they had clearly been following the sway of her hips, and he grinned unapologetically. Arthur and Ron exchanged an amused glance over the engine behind him.

“Since you lot are obviously determined to stay out here and freeze,” she said primly, one hand on the doorframe, “could I interest you in some tea?”

“Yes, please!” chorused the two Weasley men. David hesitated.

“Coffee is also an option,” Tonks added knowingly, and the werewolf laughed.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do!” she called over her shoulder as she stepped out into the brisk, late morning air. As she followed the well-worn path back to the house, David’s voice sounded again from the shed.

“There a radio in here? You can’t pull apart an engine without music…”

Tonks took her time getting to the Burrow’s back door. It was a lovely morning, if a bit cold, and she wanted to make it last. The frenetic drama of the last week seemed like a distant memory, recently softened by large hands on her bare skin and long hours spent talking about everything and nothing within the vibrant sanctuary of the greenhouse. Tonks knew she was glowing – Hermione and Ginny had positively giggled when she and David finally arrived for breakfast, newly-showered and out of breath – but even Mrs. Weasley’s embarrassed glances couldn’t put a damper on the young Auror’s fierce _joy_.

A burst of laughter sounded faintly from the shed and Tonks glanced back, smiling. While her boyfriend was far from demonstrative, she knew she was not the only one whose heart was full to bursting. If hunger had not driven them out in search of sustenance, Tonks was sure they would still be in the greenhouse right now, gossip be damned.

“Are you coming in? Or has love made you immune to the cold?”

Tonks turned unamused eyes up to Bill, who was lounging against the doorframe with a horribly smug expression on his face.

“You’ve a hickie, you know,” he informed her helpfully, pointing to the mark blossoming beneath her left jawbone. “Mum couldn’t stop staring at it this morning.”

“I know,” Tonks said with a self-satisfied smirk. She could have subtly morphed the color of her skin to conceal the mark, but a primal – and possibly juvenile – part of her had wanted everyone to see. David had been surprisingly bashful about it, his cheeks going red when he finally noticed what he had done in the warm light of the crowded kitchen. Bill quirked his eyebrows, smiling over the rim of a steaming mug of tea.

“And I thought Fleur and I were good at mortifying people.”

“Oy!” she laughed, punching his arm. “Fleur was the one who made it possible, I’ll have you know. She even snuck us in this morning so we could take showers without you lot seeing.”

“Aye, she’s a hopeless romantic,” the tall man laughed, standing aside so Tonks could come in. He shut the door behind her and they traipsed into the kitchen, where Fred and George were bent over the mangled remains of a firework. Hermione, Ginny and Fleur were busy on the other side of the room, cutting out gingerbread biscuits and levitating them onto baking trays.

“… don’t think we put in enough lacewing fly powder.”

“It was plenty green, it just didn’t turn into a _dragon_.”

“Yeah it did! It was a bit… wonky, that’s all.”

“ _Wonky?_ It looked like a bloody flobberworm!”

“Where’s your beau?” Fleur asked demurely over the sound of the twins arguing. Tonks came up beside her and reached into the cupboard for a few mugs.

“He’s out in the shed with Ron and Mr. Weasley. They’re pulling the car apart.”

“They are?” Bill asked, distracted from his attempt to steal some biscuit dough. Fleur slapped his hand away from the bowl, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Does he know what’s wrong with it?”

“Erm… something about a head gasket.”

The young man turned abruptly and headed for the door.

“Oy!” he called, gesturing to the twins. “Come on, Dave’s helping dad fix the car!”

“Really?” George said, leaping to his feet so fast his chair almost fell over. Fred was right behind him. Mere seconds later, the kitchen was devoid of male inhabitants. The four young women stared after them in bemused silence.

“… why are boys so obsessed with cars?” Hermione finally asked, shaking her head. “Doesn’t seem to matter if they’re muggles or wizards, they’re all the same.”

Ginny laughed and shook her head, turning back to her rolled sheet of biscuit dough.

“Dad’s been fiddling with that thing for _years_ ,” she said fondly. “Never can make it run for more than a few days at a time. It’s a running joke at this point.”

They settled into comfortable silence, busy with biscuit-making and tea preparation. Tonks had never considered herself a terribly domestic person, but today the undemanding routine of normal life felt like a welcome balm on her weary soul. She set the kettle boiling with a tap of her wand.

“So…” Fleur began, a wry grin spreading across her face as she turned to Tonks, “how was last night?”

Hermione and Ginny giggled again, determinedly not looking up. The young Auror leaned her hip against the counter, crossed her arms, and smirked at the older woman.

“It was nice, thanks for asking.”

“You and David looked very happy this morning.”

Tonks didn’t know what to say to that so she just shrugged, smiling. Fleur quirked her eyebrows and turned back to her own sheet of biscuit dough. She was not the most adept of bakers.

“Happiness suits him,” she remarked, levitating a particularly squashed gingerbread man to the baking trays. “He is actually quite handsome.”

“You mean when he’s not half-starved, unwashed and angry?” Tonks asked with a grin. “I agree.”

“That photograph in the Daily Prophet was horrible,” Fleur said, shuddering. “It is hard to believe they are the same person.”

“Yeah,” the Auror grunted darkly, turning to fill a tea ball with loose leaf Earl Grey.

“Do you know how he got those scars on his face?”

Tonks blinked, looking back at the quarter-veela.

“No. I’ve never asked.”

Fleur seemed disappointed, and Tonks furrowed her brow.

“Why?”

“It is nothing,” the blond woman murmured, poking half-heartedly at the dough in front of her. Tonks exchanged a confused glance with Ginny, but the singing of the kettle interrupted her train of thought. The metamorphmagus turned to pour boiling water into a chipped orange tea pot, contemplating her friend’s behavior. Fleur seemed oddly invested in David’s happiness, and her casual question rang with a hint of desperation. Tonks let the tea steep, turning back to the young woman and crossing her arms over her chest once more.

“Do you… _know_ him or something?”

The blond woman froze.

“ _Non_ ,” she said quickly. “ _Je veux dire…_ only since yesterday.”

She turned to Tonks, blue eyes wide. The Auror opened her mouth –

“What in Merlin’s name is _that_?”

Percy stood in the doorway, eyeing the mangled firework on the table with blatant distaste. The four women turned to look at him.

“One of Fred and George’s experiments,” Ginny drawled. “They set it off on the moors an hour ago, apparently it didn’t work so well.”

The bespectacled young man rolled his eyes.

“Why is it _here?_ ”

“They’re in the shed with dad. Professor Lupin is helping with the car.”

Percy let out a long-suffering sigh and shuffled back upstairs, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘ _I think I was adopted_ ’.

“See?” Fleur said brightly, gesturing towards the door. “Not every boy is obsessed with cars.”

“Not sure he counts as a boy,” Ginny muttered, turning back to the biscuits. “Think he’s more of an alien.”

Tonks dumped several spoonfuls of coffee into a small French press, brow furrowed. Fleur was clearly hiding something.

“Most veelas don’t much like werewolves,” she remarked casually, pouring water over the grounds. “But you don’t seem to mind them.”

Fleur didn’t reply, suddenly very invested in her latest gingerbread man.

“I really appreciate it, you know,” Tonks said softly, examining her friend’s profile. “Not many people would be as kind to David as you’ve been.”

“Yes, well,” the woman muttered in a rare display of anger, “most people are stupid.”

Nobody argued with that. Tonks rested her hand on the top of the French press, waiting patiently for the coffee to brew. She watched Fleur open her mouth, hesitate, then speak again.

“He deserves to be happy. So do you.”

Tonks waited for more, but the woman was clearly done talking. Before she could thank her, Molly bustled into the kitchen.

“You haven’t put them in the oven yet?” she asked, gesturing to the raw biscuits. “Really girls, they don’t have to be perfect.”

Tonks took that as her cue to leave. Sticking three mugs into her jacket pocket, she grabbed the tea pot and French press and made for the hallway. She was just wondering how she was going to open the back door when Hermione appeared beside her, a jug of milk in hand.

“Here, let me,” the girl said, pulling open the door.

“Cheers, mate,” Tonks replied with a grateful smile. “And thanks for the milk, I completely forgot.”

They walked single file down the path across the snowy garden. As they approached the shed, distant music grew louder. Raucous drums and the whine of an electric guitar drew a laugh from Tonks. That sounded an awful lot like the Weird Sisters.

They entered to find the shed in chaos. She had only been gone ten minutes, but clearly the men had been busy. Car parts littered the floor and a large television lay in pieces on a table. The stereo system in the corner was blasting music at a volume that bordered on uncomfortable, and Ron and Arthur were crouched on the ground beside the light blue Ford Anglia. Bill and the twins were watching from a bit further away, arms crossed in identical expressions of concentration. David was nowhere to be seen. Tonks glanced around, then put the tea and coffee on the table beside several bits of rusted machinery.

Movement called her attention, and she glanced over to see her boyfriend hauling himself out from underneath the car. His face, arms, and t-shirt were thoroughly coated in oil and dirt. He waved his hand toward the stereo, and the volume decreased immediately. Tonks pursed her lips. Just because he _could_ do that again didn’t mean he _should_.

“You needed an oil change about ten years ago,” he informed Arthur, pulling himself to his feet, “your fuel line is clogged, and your wheels are out of alignment. You could do with some new tires as well, though I ‘spose since you’re flying that doesn’t matter so much.”

Tonks cleared her throat pointedly and they all turned to look at her.

“Oh, thank you,” Arthur said, smiling when he caught sight of the tea and coffee. But the young Auror didn’t spare him a glance.

“David, please don’t use wandless magic like that.”

The werewolf blinked.

“Eh?”

“You just turned down the music.”

A line formed between his brows and he glanced over at the stereo.

“Oh. Right, erm… sorry, just a habit.”

She didn’t push the issue in front of the others, but as she turned to press the top down on the coffee, she felt him approach. Hermione tactfully excused herself, carrying a mug of tea over to Ron. A large hand settled on Tonks’s right hip and David’s warmth seeped into her left side.

“I’ll try not to do it again,” he murmured in her ear. “Okay?”

She looked up at him and nodded, smiling uncertainly.

“I just want you to be healthy. It’ll be a lot easier once you have the right wand.”

“Mmm,” he hummed begrudgingly. He reached down to pour some coffee.

“D’you want some?”

“I’ll have some of yours,” she agreed as he added milk. “I only brought the three mugs.”

He handed it to her to drink first, then looked over to where Fred and George were examining the autopsied television.

“Dunno why dad still has this bloody thing,” George complained, poking at it. “It’s never worked.”

“The electron emitters in the CRT go all wonky around magic,” David said, as though it was obvious. “But you can tweak the focusing coils to compensate. I’ve a television in my room at Hogwarts, works just fine.”

Tonks looked up at him in fond amusement.

“You do know it’s illegal to tamper with muggle technology, right?”

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Yet another idiotic law handed down by people who wouldn’t know progress if it gave them a lap dance. Muggles are passing us by in more ways than one, and acting like they’re lesser beings is doing our world no favours.”

“Hear hear!” Arthur cried, raising his tea in firm agreement. Tonks exchanged a rueful glance with the twins. Who would have guessed that the Weasley patriarch and the ex-Reaper would get on so well.

“I think there’s a… _Halford’s_ or whatever it’s called in town,” the red-haired man said eagerly. “If you make a list for me, I can pick up whatever parts you need.”

“Sounds good,” David replied, taking the coffee when Tonks offered it to him. “Shouldn’t cost too much to get this thing back on the… well, working again.”

Another squealing electric guitar solo reminded Tonks of the stereo’s existence.

“What are you listening to anyway?” she asked, looking up at the werewolf beside her as Arthur hurried off.

“Local radio station,” David shrugged. “I think this is Pearl Jam.”

“You ever listen to the Weird Sisters?”

His lips quirked in response to her eager grin.

“A bit. I suspect I’ll be hearing a lot more of them in the future.”

“Here you are,” Arthur said, holding a pad of oil-smudged paper and a pen out to David. The werewolf hesitated, shooting Tonks an uncomfortable glance.

“… Dora, can you - ?”

“Of course,” she replied immediately, taking the writing implements from Mr. Weasley’s hand. The man looked confused.

“Are you a mechanic as well, Tonks?”

“Erm…” she stammered uncertainly.

“She’s writing for me,” David explained, staring down into his coffee. “I rely mostly on wandless dictation spells, and she’s right – I can’t afford to do that anymore.”

Arthur blinked at him, clearly bemused.

“You… can’t write?”

“Can’t read either,” the werewolf grunted. “Least not very well.”

“… oh.”

“Anyway,” David said firmly, with a pointed look at the pad in Tonks’s hands, “we need at least two bottles of 15W-40 oil and an oil filter for an 1172cc engine. Then we need a new fuel pump, and if we get the pump out we might as well do a new fuel filter while we’re at it.”

Tonks scribbled it all down quickly, then looked up.

“Anything else?”

David contemplated the car for a moment, biting his lip.

“Oh, we need more coolant. And a head gasket. To be honest, the local shop probably won’t have the right parts, they’ll be specific to older Fords. My old boss in Manchester specializes in cars like this, I can give you his address.”

“That would be brilliant,” Arthur said, grinning as Tonks tore out the list and handed it to him.

“Tell him Nick is working on your car, he’ll probably give you a discount.”

The red-haired man peered up at the werewolf.

“How many different names have you had, son?”

David shrugged, taking a long sip of coffee.

“I don’t know about this,” Tonks said, looking between the two men. “Crowther could be keeping tabs on all your old friends. If Mr. Weasley shows up at that shop, it could lead them back here.”

“That’s a good point,” Arthur said, looking alarmed.

“They’re not keeping tabs on Frank bloody Bolton,” David scoffed. “I doubt they even know I worked for him.”

“I wouldn’t put anything past them, Davie.”

The ex-Reaper made a face.

“Fine,” he muttered unhappily. “There must be a Ford dealership in Exeter. They’ll probably have the parts.”

Arthur nodded, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket.

“Thank you for helping,” he said, nodding his head to David. The younger man shrugged.

“I don’t mind. It’s nice to work on a car again.”

“Professor?”

They turned to find the others crowded around the pieces of television. Fred and George were trying – and failing – to put it back together. Hermione’s arms were crossed, her eyes sparkling with mirth as she watched them struggle.

“A little help here?” she asked pointedly, and David handed his mug back to Tonks. He wandered over and the twins stepped aside, giving him access to a large metal board covered in a mess of multicolored strings. Tonks eyed it warily.

“You have to strip these wires,” he said, grabbing yet another tool off the table and yanking at one of the strings. “Miss Granger, can you cast a reflective charm on those coils?”

He nodded to two small brass objects sitting on the table, and the girl hurried to follow his instructions. They all watched, intrigued, as David quickly reconstructed the television with deft hands.

“It needs a power source,” he muttered to himself, glancing around the messy shed. “Ah!”

He strode across the room and leapt onto one of the work benches that lined the walls. Grabbing the top of a metal cabinet with one hand, he pulled himself up and grabbed a large, black box that was perched precariously on top. He dropped to the floor and hurried back, placing the box next to the television with a loud thud that indicated it was much heavier than he had just made it look.

“This from the tip as well?” he asked, glancing at Arthur. The man nodded and David grabbed the long cord coming out the back of the television.

“… there’s probably enough juice left…”

He stripped the plastic off the cord, then paused, staring at the wire in his hand.

“Shit.”

“What is it?”

He shot an unhappy look at Tonks.

“This needs a power converting spell. I doubt any of you know how to do it.”

“Can you use my wand?”

“Last time I tried it with a wand I nearly blew myself up.”

“Albus is bringing Ollivander ‘round today,” Mr. Weasley said. “We can wait.”

“It doesn’t take that much magic, I can just – “

But Bill stepped forward and gently took the cord away from the werewolf.

“I think we’ll survive another few hours without a television, mate.”

David’s lips tightened and he took a step back from the table, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“… right. Erm… well, it – it should work once I’ve done the spell. You’ll be able to get local stations.”

“Thanks, Dave.”

The werewolf blinked and looked up at Bill. The taller man smiled.

“I dunno about you,” he remarked, clapping a hand to David’s shoulder, “but I’m starving. Time for lunch?”

He didn’t give the other man a chance to hesitate, turning him around by the shoulder and guiding him in the direction of the door. The others helped Tonks and Hermione clean up the coffee and tea, then they all traipsed back to the Burrow.

The house smelled of gingerbread. Fleur and Ginny were just pulling the last of the biscuits out of the oven, and Molly was setting a large plate full of sandwiches onto the kitchen table. She looked up as they filed in.

“I was just coming to get you,” she said. “What were you all doing out there, anyway?”

“Oh, nothing,” Arthur said innocently, giving his wife a peck on the cheek as the horde of teenagers descended upon the sandwiches. “Just showing David some of my collection.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Is that why he’s so filthy?”

Tonks snorted with laughter as David shuffled his feet awkwardly next to the door. It was true – he looked like he had picked a fight with one of the garden gnomes. Arthur fidgeted under his wife’s glare.

“He, uh… may have taken a look under the car.”

Molly didn’t look the least bit surprised. With a long-suffering sigh, she turned to David.

“Would you like a clean shirt, dear?”

He blinked.

“… erm…”

“You’re about Percy’s size, I think,” she said, giving him a once-over. “Here.”

With a slow sweep of her wand, the worst of the oil smudges disappeared from David’s face, arms and hands. He looked down at his newly clean skin, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.

“You don’t raise six boys without learning a trick or two,” Molly remarked with a wry smile. Then she lifted her wand again and summoned a dark blue t-shirt from upstairs. It sailed into the room and fluttered down into David’s bemused hands.

“Oh, it matches your new jumper!”

The plump woman whirled around, grabbing a bundle of blue fabric off the back of a chair. She strode over to the stunned werewolf and held it out. He just stared at her.

“Go on,” she said, smiling. “Try it on. I hope I got the size right.”

David’s eyes flickered to Tonks and back again. His throat bobbed, then he plucked uncertainly at the stained wolf shirt he’d been wearing for several days.

“I’ll, uh… go change.”

He ducked quickly out of the room.

“You’re freaking him out, mum,” Ron said around a mouthful of roast beef.

“Why?” she demanded, turning around and crossing her arms.

“’Cause you’re mothering him.”

“What do you expect me to do?”

Ron shrugged and swallowed.

“To be honest, I think he’d be more comfortable if you just ignored him.”

Molly pursed her lips.

“Well, he’s just going to have to get over that.”

Tonks grabbed a sandwich as the floo roared in the other room. Mad Eye had placed a warning charm on the fireplace so they would know if any unfriendly guests were coming their way. As the alarm had not gone off, she could only assume whoever had arrived was an ally.

A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the house and everyone jumped. Tonks jerked violently, dropping her plate. Then she was off down the hall, sprinting towards the living room. She skidded into the doorway just as David hurled himself out of it, his eyes fixed on whoever had come through the floo. They collided in a tangle of limbs, and Tonks used her momentum to throw him behind her as she brandished her wand at…

Marlene Mackinnon was huddled next to the fireplace, back pressed against the wall and hands held out in front of her. Dark brown eyes were filled with horror, and her entire body was trembling. Tonks blinked.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, f- fuck – _fuck_ – “

David’s voice cracked behind her, and Tonks turned to see him fumbling with the blue t-shirt. His chest was bare, the Reaper tattoo standing out horribly against his pale skin. As the hallway filled with people coming to investigate the commotion, his shoulders hunched and his body seemed to shrink. He was struggling to find the armholes on the shirt, his breath coming in shallow gasps. In an instant, Tonks was in front of him, her wand back in her pocket.

“Davie,” she said softly, reaching up to grab his shaking hands, “let me help you.”

She guided his arms into the sleeves, then helped him pull the t-shirt over his head. As fabric settled over his bare skin, his breath hitched and miserable eyes found hers. His chest heaved under her hands.

“It’s alright, love,” she murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It’s alright.”

With a final tug on the front of his shirt, she turned around to see that Molly and Arthur were already comforting the distraught woman in their living room. Marlene’s gaze was still fixed on the ex-Reaper, but her horror had given way to guilt.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, still trembling in Molly’s arms. “I just – I wasn’t expecting…”

She trailed off, and for a moment nobody knew what to say. Then David was pulling away from Tonks, stumbling towards the front door.

“David – “

“I… I need some air, just… let me – “

“ _Wait!_ ”

Tonks didn’t know Marlene Mackinnon all that well. But the entire wizarding world knew what Lupin, Dolohov and Travers had done to her family. She was frankly impressed that the woman hadn’t hexed the former Reaper the second she saw him. And she was shocked when Marlene scrambled to her feet and raced after him. David followed her approach with wide eyes, shrinking back against the wall once more. Marlene stopped in her tracks, then approached more slowly, as one would a cornered animal.

“… David, is it?”

The werewolf just stared at her. Marlene halted barely a metre away from him, hands at her sides and head held high. Tonks watched her shoulders straighten and her profile settle into a determined expression.

“I’ve been meaning to visit you at Hogwarts,” she said quietly. “I kept putting it off, and for that I’m truly sorry.”

David’s gaze flickered, a line forming between his brows. Marlene drew in a long, steadying breath.

“I forgive you.”

Uncomprehending silence greeted this statement. The werewolf didn’t even blink.

“I forgave you a long time ago, to be honest. We all did. It’s just… hard, you know? To…”

She shrugged helplessly and dropped her gaze, starting to pick at one of her nails.

“… to look at you.”

There was another painful silence. Then Marlene raised her head again.

“I owe you my life. And the lives of my parents, my siblings, my – my children. And I…”

She hesitated, examining David’s pale face for a moment.

“… I suspect my goddaughter’s life as well.”

Tonks heard someone gasp behind her. David still didn’t speak. It looked like he was trying very hard to disappear into the wallpaper. Marlene took another step forward.

“Edgar and Felicity Bones were my best friends. Their baby girl was found asleep in a wardrobe. A bottle of perfume was smashed on the floor. You hid her from Greyback, didn’t you?”

Another long silence. This time, Marlene clearly wanted an answer. But David just stared at her, eyes red-rimmed and flickering. The mousey-haired woman bit back a sob and reached out, trying to grab his arm. He flinched away from her, inching further down the wall.

“Did they know?” Marlene asked desperately, wringing her hands. “Did they know she was safe before you…?”

The werewolf hesitated, bloodshot eyes fixed on the distraught woman. A muscle twitched in his jaw and he blinked rapidly. Then he nodded once, the motion small and curt.

With a broken sob, Marlene sank to the floor in front of him, hands clasped together. Her shoulders heaved.

“Oh, thank Merlin. Thank you, _thank_ you…”

“Please don’t,” David croaked, shaking his head. “Please, get – get up. I don’t…”

With a muffled curse, he strode forward and grabbed the sobbing woman’s elbows. He lifted her to her feet and guided her into Molly’s waiting arms before stepping back, hands held out to the sides.

“I don’t want your thanks,” he snapped, and Tonks wasn’t sure who he was talking to. “I don’t _deserve_ it, alright? I should have done more, I _could_ have done more if I hadn’t been such a bloody coward. So just… _stop_.”

Arthur took a step forward, but David stepped back to compensate.

“Get _away_ from me!” he snarled. Tonks recognized her cue, and she pulled Mr. Weasley back by the arm.

“Why don’t you all go have lunch,” she suggested calmly. “I think everyone needs to calm down a bit.”

With some muttering and shuffling of feet, the mostly red-haired crowd took her advice and filed back into the kitchen. Molly and Arthur helped their still sobbing friend down the hallway, whispering words of comfort as they went. Finally, Tonks and David were alone. She turned to him, expression as neutral as she could manage. Experience told her that anything even remotely resembling pity would go over like a sack of bricks in his current mood.

Sure enough, even her emotionless gaze was met with hostility. He glared at her before stalking into the living room, shoulders tight and fists clenched. She considered leaving him alone, but unfortunately she didn’t put it past him to use the floo to escape the situation. With a sigh, she followed him.

Predictably, he began pacing from one side of the room to the other like a tiger in too small a cage. He was running his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end in a manner that brought a smile to her face. At some point, she had stopped thinking he was terrifying when he was angry and started thinking he was adorable.

“Can’t I get through one _bloody_ day without some dramatic incident?” he muttered to himself. “For fuck’s sake…”

With a groan, he threw himself onto a couch, sinking back into the cushions and covering his eyes with his palms. Tonks continued to stand near the door, hands in her pockets. Best to let him get most of the sulking out of his system before she tried to speak.

Nearly a minute passed in silence, the only sound his harsh breathing. Then, with a final frustrated huff, he dropped his hands from his face and glared at the ceiling. Tonks stepped forward, and he finally turned his amber eyes to her.

“… ‘m sorry, love,” he muttered, chagrined. “I’m being melodramatic again, aren’t I?”

“A bit, yeah.”

He snorted and turned away, closing his eyes tightly. He drew in a long breath through his nose, then let it out. She approached him slowly, coming to stand between his legs. He opened his eyes again and looked up at her, lips curving into a hint of a smile.

“Remind me why we got out of bed this morning?”

She chuckled and knelt down, resting her elbows on his knees.

“ _You’re_ the one whose stomach was growling,” she said, grinning at him. “’Course, we could always go _back_ to bed…”

“Mmm,” he hummed, leaning forward. “Don’t tempt me.”

He bent down and captured her lips in a gentle, lingering kiss. She smiled into him, running her fingers through his thick stubble. They parted slowly, noses touching, and Tonks swallowed.

“… is there anyone in the wizarding world who _doesn’t_ owe you a life debt?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Nobody owes me a life debt. Sometimes I… tried to be a bit less horrible than the people around me. That doesn’t mean I’m a – ”

“Good person?” she challenged. “Sorry love, but I think it does.”

He glared at her, but she refused to back down.

“Speaking of stomachs growling,” she said cheerfully, “I’m starving. My lunch was interrupted by a rather loud scream.”

He closed his eyes again, cursing under his breath as he shook his head.

“She got here right after I took my shirt off,” he muttered unhappily. “Poor woman looked like she was about to faint.”

“She was just surprised,” Tonks replied, then grinned. “Give her another chance and I’m sure she’ll learn to enjoy the view. _I_ certainly have.”

A faint blush colored the tops of his cheeks and he smirked.

“You’re just biased.”

“Am not. Even Fleur admits you’re handsome, and she’s a tough critic.”

“I’m pretty sure she just has a thing for werewolves.”

“That… might be true. Poor Bill.”

He laughed and pulled her into his arms, pressing his lips to her temple.

“Alright, let’s get some food in you.”

He stood up, bringing her with him. As she turned for the door, his hand lingered on her bum, squeezing gently. She arched an eyebrow at him over her shoulder.

“Cheeky.”

“I like your cheeks,” he said mischievously. “Sure you don’t want to just head back to the greenhouse?”

“ _Patience_ , young grasshopper.”

“You’ve seen Karate Kid, but you haven’t seen _Star Wars?_ ” he said incredulously, following her towards the door. Catching sight of a lump of blue fabric on the floor, Tonks grabbed Molly’s jumper and held it out to him.

“She might cry if you don’t wear this,” she informed him, lips twitching. He looked supremely unimpressed, but he still grabbed it and began to pull it over his head.

“And for your information,” she continued, smile growing as he struggled with the handmade garment, “my dad only gets _three_ channels on his telly. You’re lucky I understand any of your references.”

“Three channels?” he yelped as his head popped out the top of the jumper, hair in disarray. “I can fix that, you know.”

“Oh, really?” she grinned, reaching out to straighten the large bronze _D_ on his chest. “Already trying to get on his good side, I see.”

He snorted, trying to flatten his hair back into something that resembled a style.

“Dora, your mum and dad are never going to like me. That’s a foregone conclusion.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” she said, standing back to examine his new jumper. “See? I was right! You _are_ a Ravenclaw.”

One corner of his mouth curled up in a wry smile.

“Just because the color looks halfway decent on me doesn’t mean it reflects my personality.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. Come on, I want to show you off.”

She grabbed his hand and led him into the hallway. The sound of many overlapping voices echoed from the kitchen. Suddenly, David pulled her back, pressing her firmly against the wall.

“What – “

He cut her off with his lips, kissing her breathless. His hands wrapped around the bottom of her ribcage, almost lifting her off the ground. Tonks gasped and her head spun. She wondered if anyone would notice if they disappeared into the greenhouse for a while…

They finally broke apart, chests heaving. Tonks giggled breathlessly and leaned her forehead against his.

“What was that for?”

He smiled and shrugged.

“I love you. Just… wanted you to know.”

She kissed him, short and sweet.

“I love you, too. And I must say, the sight of you covered in motor oil is _very_ attractive.”

“Is it, now? ‘Spose I’ll have to get a car or two then, just to keep you interested.”

“Oh yes, of course that would be entirely for my benefit.”

“Of course,” he agreed, grinning. “An Alfa, maybe an E-Type…”

“You do realize those names mean nothing to me.”

He laughed, pressing his body more firmly against hers.

“Would you two stop flirting out here?”

They turned to find Ron leaning out the door of the kitchen, smirking.

“I _can_ hear you,” he informed them. Tonks burst out laughing as David reluctantly pulled away from her.

“Welcome to my life, mate,” the older werewolf said ruefully. “You wouldn’t believe all the things I’ve tried not to hear from the broom closets at school.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron whimpered, going pale. “I never thought about that.”

David chuckled and grabbed Tonks’s hand, clapping the traumatized boy on the shoulder as he walked past him into the kitchen.

“Oh, it’s perfect!”

Molly hurried towards them, beaming with pleasure at the sight of David in his new jumper. More than a few heads turned to look, and the twins leapt to their feet, crowing out their approval.

“Oh _yes_ – “

“Absolutely _spiffing_ , my dear Exley,” Fred said pompously, brushing some imaginary dust from David’s shoulder.

“You wear it so well,” George agreed. “A real tribute to the designer.”

“Show it off for us, will you?”

“Yes, go on! Give us a twirl!”

“ _Boys_ ,” Molly hissed, shooing them away from the bewildered werewolf. “Leave the poor man alone!”

“I still think it should be red and gold, mum!” Ginny called from the other end of the table, where she and Hermione were busy decorating their gingerbread biscuits.

“I stand by Ravenclaw,” Molly said firmly, ushering David and Tonks down to join the two girls. “If the Sorting Hat says differently, I’ll just make him another one.”

“The _Sorting Hat?_ ” David repeated, sounding alarmed.

“Yes, dear, Albus is bringing it today. Honestly, the man should have put it on you the second you stepped foot in the castle.”

“But – “

“The others have already explained your aversion to the idea,” she said as she grabbed a clean plate and proceeded to pile it high with egg salad sandwiches. “And while I think you have a good point, I also think that everyone deserves to _belong_ somewhere. Wouldn’t you agree?”

She handed him the plate, one eyebrow arched. He blinked up at her.

“Uh… I – I suppose so.”

Point made, the plump woman turned around and went back to her seat next to Marlene, who was holding a steaming mug to her lips and trying valiantly not to stare at David. The werewolf turned to Tonks, hands full of egg salad sandwiches.

“Has everyone gone insane? Or is it just me?”

She grabbed a sandwich and took a bite, quirking her eyebrows.

“This is what happens when the Weasleys decide they like you.”

“It’s true,” Ginny chimed in, bent over a particularly elaborate gingerbread man. “Welcome to the clan, professor.”

Tonks smiled at her, then glanced up. To her surprise, David’s eyes had gone a bit watery. She squeezed his hand.

“You alright, love?”

He blinked rapidly, his throat bobbing. Then he nodded, giving her a shaky smile.

“… ‘m fine.”

He drew in a deep breath and pulled her close, breathing back out into her pink hair.

“In fact… I’ve never been better.”


	15. Chapter 15

“Did you always want to be an Auror?”

David’s voice was low and gravelly, his chest rumbling against her shoulder. She turned her head to look at him. They were sharing the same pillow, the same breath. Late afternoon sunlight streamed through foggy glass and tangled vegetation, bathing the inside of the greenhouse in a warm glow. There was a lovely stillness to the air; a sense that – at least for this moment – everything was as it should be.

“Always,” she admitted with a self-conscious smile. “There was a brief period where I wanted to be a musician, but a complete lack of talent made that career path rather impractical.”

“Oh, come on,” he laughed, “I’m sure you have talent.”

She snorted.

“I can’t hold a tune to save my life. I just fancied strutting about on stage wearing ridiculous outfits.”

“… you _would_ be quite good at that.”

“I know, right?” she laughed. “D’you play music?”

“I sing in the shower sometimes, does that count?”

“Depends on what you sing.”

“Beatles, mostly. Occasionally David Bowie, if I’m feeling particularly ambitious.”

“ _Ground control to Major Tom…_ ” she warbled. He grinned and joined her.

“ _Ground control to Major Tom…”_

She giggled and fell silent, but he was off to the races, singing with mock solemnity as he closed his eyes.

“ _This is ground control to Major Tom… you’ve really made the grade…_ ”

“Bloody hell, you’ve a good voice.”

“Speak for yourself,” he smiled, nudging her foot with his. “No talent, my arse.”

His fingers lightly traced the line of her collarbone as he continued to sing quietly. She listened for a while before joining in.

“ _Here am I sitting in a tin can… far from the world. Planet Earth is blue and there’s nothing I can do…_ ”

Tonks began to strum a fake guitar.

“Bum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum dum…”

He chuckled as she continued to play her imaginary instrument.

“I think we really have something here,” he said. “We should hand in our notices and start a band.”

“I’m game. What should we call ourselves?”

“… Dora and the Scruffy Wanker?”

She burst out laughing and shoved him.

“You are _not_ a scruffy wanker!”

“Dora and Her Utterly Besotted Boyfriend?”

“That’s a terrible name for a band, you’re not even trying.”

“Dora and David…” he closed his eyes, as if in pain. “Oh God, we sound like something out of a 1950s sitcom.”

She snorted, having reached the same conclusion herself several days ago.

“How about… The Shapeshifters?”

He contemplated it for a while, then –

“I like it. Sounds like a punk group.”

“Really? Sounds more hard rock to me.”

He shrugged.

“We can do both. This is _our_ imaginary band, we can do whatever the hell we want.”

She laughed and rolled to face him, burying her fingers in his blond stubble. They had escaped to the greenhouse an hour ago, after a few failed attempts at biscuit decorating and several spirited rounds of wizarding chess with Ron and Charlie. Apart from Marlene’s unexpected arrival, it had been rather a perfect day.

“… you look good with a beard,” she mused, tugging absently at it. His lips twitched.

“It hides the scars.”

She scowled at him.

“That’s not why it looks good. It just… suits you.”

“… the better to tickle you with, my dear.”

Tonks barely caught a glimpse of a mischievous grin before he was surging forward, pressing his face into her neck and kissing her madly. Sure enough, the beard rasped against sensitive skin and she shrieked with laughter as his fingers danced down her exposed ribs. He didn’t subject her to this torture for long, though, hands stilling as his lips met hers. They were lost in each other for several long moments before they parted, breathing heavily.

“… Little Red Riding Hood?” she gasped, cocking an amused eyebrow. “Really?”

He shrugged, unapologetic.

“Had to be done.”

They settled back into the pillow, grinning at each other in quiet contentment. For a while, the only sound in the greenhouse was the soft hiss of wind blowing snow against the glass. David lifted a reverent finger to brush a lock of pink hair out of her eyes. His gaze was distant, fixed on the curve of her right cheekbone.

“Sickle for your thoughts?”

He blinked. Tonks waited, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Then he let out a huff of quiet laughter and shook his head.

“I was… thinking about how much I owe you,” he murmured, dropping his hand. “Honestly, I… I owe you _everything_.”

“What?” she laughed. “That’s not true.”

“It _is_ ,” he insisted. “Yeah, there were a lot of reasons why I started spying for the Order, but _you_ were the last straw. And then – I mean, for the past six years you’ve been one of the only people who will actually _talk_ to me. You were scared at first, I could smell it, but… you got over it. You… made me laugh, you called me out on my bullshit. You made the wizarding world _bearable_. You gave me a reason to get up every day, to keep trying. And then that night the others were Kissed… Dora, if you hadn’t asked me for that drink, I would be dead right now. D’you realize that? I would have gone off on my own and Umbridge would have cornered me and that would be it.”

“That’s not true,” Tonks repeated weakly, overwhelmed by the words suddenly pouring from his mouth like a dam overflowing. “You fought them off all by yourself.”

“Because I knew that at least on some level, you _cared_ ,” he said, voice shaking. “And because I was _so fucking angry_. They could have hurt you, they _would_ have. If it weren’t for you…”

He let out a mirthless laugh, shaking his head.

“If it weren’t for you, I probably would have let them kill me.”

The words rang with morbid conviction. She didn’t know what to say. Luckily, David didn’t seem to expect a response. His eyes were now fixed on the few centimetres of bedsheet visible between their bodies.

“… sorry,” he finally mumbled with a self-conscious chuckle. “I just… thank you. For being you.”

An uncertain silence stretched between them. Then Tonks cleared her throat awkwardly.

“You’re, uh… you’re welcome.”

They examined each other for a long moment, noses almost touching. Then David drew in a deep breath, and Tonks could see a decision forming in his eyes.

“You’re the first witch I’ve ever been with, you know. The only…” he swallowed, “the only woman who’s ever let me touch her, knowing full well who – and _what_ – I am.”

She blinked. Then –

“What about Soha?”

He dropped his gaze, tangling his fingers with hers under the covers.

“… Soha wasn’t… we weren’t…” he made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “She was more like a sister. She was a few years older and I wasn’t really her type, if you get my meaning.”

“But… I thought you loved her.”

“I _did_. She was my best friend. I met her when I was six, she was the first werewolf I ever saw. I still remember… waking up and – and looking across the hall at those yellow eyes. Scared the shit out of me.”

He went quiet for a while, chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. Then he rolled onto his back, gaze fixing on the fairy lights. Tonks knew he wasn’t really seeing them.

“… what was she like?”

A long silence.

“Funny. Terrifying. A lot like you, to be honest. I’d say you two would have been friends, but she hated Ministry types unconditionally, ‘specially Aurors.”

“Did she know you were helping the Order?”

“No,” he replied immediately, shaking his head at the ceiling. “She loved me, but she was too far gone to see things my way. She was rubbish at wandless magic, so the facility was much worse for her than it was for me. The packs were almost as bad, and I could only do so much to help her. When we finally made it to Tantallon…”

He trailed off, then sighed deeply and ran a hand down his face.

“The Dark Lord gave us food and protection, but it was more than that. He made us feel wanted; he gave us _power_. It was all an illusion, of course, but if you toed the line the rewards were… compelling.”

Another long silence. Then he sighed and rolled back to face her. He didn’t meet her eyes, however, instead fixing his gaze somewhere over her shoulder.

“We were all broken, in one way or another. Even him. I think that’s what scares me the most. Hardly anyone sets out to be evil. We all thought we were doing the right thing. Soha was a good person, but she could murder someone without batting an eye if they refused to swear loyalty to the Dark Lord.”

Finally, his gaze flickered to Tonks. She examined him for a moment, then took the plunge.

“Why did Sirius kill her? And why is she his boggart?”

David didn’t seem surprised by the question. In fact, it looked like he had been preparing for it.

“He shot her during a Ministry raid on the club we all used to go to on our nights off. I knew the raid was happening, I was the one who suggested it. But I asked them to leave my friends alone. I gave them… pictures and everything.”

His lips pressed together in a thin line and his eyes lowered again.

“It was right after I killed Pettigrew. I tried to explain, I – I tried to tell them he was a traitor. And I tried to tell them what he… what he…”

When he trailed off, almost choking on the words, Tonks reached forward and wrapped a hand around his wrist. He drew in a deep breath through his nose before letting it out shakily. Closing his eyes, he continued.

“… Black didn’t believe me. I don’t think anyone did. A few of my tips turned out to be wrong, and they were starting to trust me even less than they had before. Black got it in his head that I killed Pettigrew because he was going to expose me as a double agent. So when he showed up at the nightclub… well, he knew what all my friends looked like. He had their pictures.”

David glanced up. Tonks knew she was gaping at him, but no amount of self-discipline could force her expression back to the firm neutrality he always seemed to need in place of sympathy. His gaze flickered, then he was dancing away from the emotions.

“Anyway,” he said, forcing a small smile, “he figured it out eventually. As to why she’s his boggart… looks like he finally developed something resembling a conscience.”

The silence that filled the greenhouse was ringing with speechless rage. Tonks opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. Still, no words came. She was plumb out of comforting phrases, and all she really wanted to do was get the floo back to Grimmauld Place and slap her cousin in the face. Repeatedly.

“Dora…”

A rough knuckle brushed her cheek and Tonks blinked away the haze of anger. David looked concerned.

“… nobody gets through a war like that without making mistakes. Believe me, I made more than my share. For what it’s worth he _did_ apologize, a few months later. I was too angry to listen, and… I’ve been that way ever since, to be honest. But I don’t want that for you.”

His hand was now cupping her face, his eyes intent.

“I don’t want you to be angry on my account. Especially not with your own cousin.”

She drew in a trembling breath.

“… but he was supposed to be _better_ than that.”

“He’s only human,” David said sadly. “Just like you and me.”

Tonks couldn’t find the strength to argue. She blinked furiously and dropped her gaze, breath still coming in shallow, shaking gasps. A long arm wrapped around her waist and David pulled her close, pressing his lips to her forehead. Several long minutes passed, and Tonks let herself cry silently into his chest. She wasn’t even sure _why_ she was crying. For Soha, for David, for her shattered confidence in her cousin or her own battered soul, she didn’t know.

Finally, the werewolf decided they had been miserable for long enough.

“Anyway…” he ventured, the words vibrating in his throat where Tonks’s nose was pressed, “I have actually dated a few muggle women.”

The young Auror sniffed, gathered herself as best she could, then pushed back far enough to peer up at him through bloodshot eyes.

“… oh yeah?”

His lips quirked.

“I had a rather… embarrassing string of one-night stands after the War. I spent a lot of time in muggle nightclubs, trying not to think about anything. I kept moving, a different city every month until I ran out of cities. I tried to escape to the Continent a few times, almost got myself thrown in Azkaban. Then I overdosed. When I woke up, Sev presented me with a flat in Manchester and told me to grow up. A few weeks later I was a mechanic.”

He paused, a surprisingly wistful expression overtaking his features. Not for the first time, Tonks wondered if he’d actually _wanted_ to teach at Hogwarts.

“There, uh…” he trailed off, then cleared his throat. “There was a girl named Rose who worked at a tattoo shop across the road from my garage. I don’t know why she liked me. I was just a… strange, skinny bloke who never said anything – “

“You really don’t understand women, do you?”

He blinked. Even Tonks was a bit surprised by her own interjection. She gave him a wry smile.

“You’re mysterious, love. Girls like that.”

He grimaced and shifted uncomfortably.

“… yes, well. I couldn’t exactly tell her the truth, could I? We dated for over a year, and I spent most of that time just trying to keep my story straight. I did… genuinely care about her. But she didn’t really know me, and it never felt… _real_. I was about to tell her everything and live with the consequences, whatever they were. But then Dumbledore showed up and… well, I made a choice.”

“… do you regret it?”

His eyes rose to meet hers, and Tonks waited patiently for an answer. He contemplated her for a moment, then –

“No. Not anymore. I miss the simplicity of that life. I liked not having anything to do with the wizarding world. But I never could have had… _this_ … with Rose. And even if this doesn’t last – even if you decide tomorrow that you can’t deal with my drama… it will still have been worth it.”

Tonks swallowed thickly and dropped her gaze to his dogtags, resting against pale, warm skin. She reached forward and traced the edge of one of the metal discs, then let her fingers wander further down to the black serpents that ran up his sternum.

“You’re worth all the drama.”

His hand came up to press hers firmly into his chest. She could feel his heart beating, slow and steady, through his ribcage. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it, and she could see the argument die in his gaze. She was making progress.

“So, erm…” she ventured hesitantly, rubbing her thumb over one of the serpents’ fanged mouths, “did Rose ever try her talents on you?”

“… sorry?”

“You said she was a tattoo artist.”

“Oh, right. Erm…”

He wriggled his left arm out from under her and pointed to a vine of small roses twisted into the celtic pattern stretching from his fingers to his shoulder.

“These are hers,” he murmured. “I wanted to cover up all my Lothian tattoos – do those big ugly sleeves, you know. But she refused. She thought these were beautiful.”

He grimaced, still examining the thin, oddly tribal black lines that swirled dizzyingly across his skin. The roses stood out, dark red and delicate, amidst the chaos.

“So we compromised. She added something that would always remind me that… time has passed. And things have changed.”

He didn’t look up to gauge her reaction. Instead, he gestured to his right arm, where a similar vine of roses had taken up residence.

“Did those too, obviously. And these – “

He sat up and twisted his arm to point at four deep, white scars running parallel down his right shoulder blade. They looked to be yet another product of full-moon violence, but now that Tonks had time to properly examine them, she noticed several colorful tattoos between the lines. She leaned closer, then let out a surprised laugh.

Three tiny cars were racing each other up the lanes between scars. The tattoos were immaculately detailed; one red, one black, and one green. Tonks already knew they must be very specific cars.

“An Aston Martin, an Alfa, and an E-type,” he said proudly, peering over his shoulder. “I drew them for her, she knew as much about cars as you do.”

“So… fuck all, then?”

He laughed and lay back down, pulling her hand into his once again. Tonks smiled.

“She’s a talented artist.”

He shrugged.

“Yeah, she was. Drawing is about all we really had in common, to be honest.”

“D’you think you’d ever go back? To the muggle world, I mean.”

He considered the question for a moment, eyes flickering between hers. Finally, he responded.

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t get to see _you_.”

“Yes, you would,” she chuckled. “My friend Naïema’s dating a muggle, she sees her every day. You could be a mechanic and still have a _floo_ , you know.”

The idea was obviously intriguing. He drew in a breath, hesitated, then spoke.

“You wouldn’t… mind that?”

A slow smile creased her face.

“Why would I mind? Sounds like it would make you happy.”

He didn’t deny it, and Tonks furrowed her brow.

“Why did you take the job at Hogwarts anyway?”

He shrugged, grimacing.

“Dumbledore said it was a chance to show the next generation that werewolves are more than bloodthirsty savages. I reminded him that I’m hardly a shining example of human decency, but he was… rather insistent.”

“I’m glad he was.”

David raised an eyebrow.

“I think a lot of your classmates would disagree.”

“Well, they’re wrong.”

He let out a surprised bark of laughter and slid an arm around her waist, yanking her towards him. His lips captured hers in an unhurried kiss.

“You really mean it?” he murmured when they parted. “You wouldn’t mind dating a… relapsed muggle mechanic?”

“Would you stop asking me that?” she chuckled. “I don’t care what you do for a living, so long as it makes you happy.”

A broad smile split his face from ear to ear, his eyes alight.

“Well… I thought I was joking before about handing in my notice, but maybe I actually will. I’m heartily sick of the wizarding world, present company excluded.”

“I think you’ll have to make an exception for the Weasleys as well,” she pointed out. “Now that they’ve adopted you, I don’t think they’ll let you just disappear.”

His smile turned rueful, but she could tell he was pleased.

“Yeah, ‘spose they’re not so bad…”

She was about to say something along the lines of _they’re great when they’re not being bigoted arseholes_ when a yawn overtook her. They had spent much of the last twenty-four hours in bed, but very little of that time had been devoted to sleeping. She sighed and burrowed into him, tucking her head under his chin.

“Mmm… can we just stay here forever?”

His throat hummed against her nose and his fingers lightly caressed her back.

“… the others are probably wondering where we’ve gone.”

“Oh, come off it,” she snorted. “They know exactly where we are and what we’re doing.”

“That’s… mortifying.”

Tonks peered up at her boyfriend, smirking.

“I didn’t know you were so bashful.”

He huffed.

“I’m not _bashful_. I just… don’t want people gossiping about you.”

“People have been gossiping about me my whole life. At this point, I couldn’t care less.”

“You’re going to get a lot of abuse on my account,” he said bluntly. “Most people won’t understand.”

“David,” she replied firmly, “I’m a metamorphmagus. I know what it’s like to be judged for something I can’t control.”

His lips pulled into a thin, unhappy line.

“… I hate that you know that feeling.”

“If I _didn’t_ know that feeling, I wouldn’t be who I am. I might never have spoken to you.”

“True. But Dora… I can’t marry you, least not legally. And it would be very difficult for us to have children. I can’t give you the future you deserve.”

“But you’re the future I _want_ ,” she stated, her tone daring him to argue. “Besides, we’ve been dating for a bloody _week_. If you popped the question right now, I might just run away screaming.”

He burst out laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Fair point. ‘Spose I’m getting ahead of myself.”

“Just a bit. You don’t know me that well yet. I could snore, or chew with my mouth open, or break really foul wind – “

He let out an undignified snigger.

“You snore when you’re on your left side, you don’t chew with your mouth open, and as long as I keep you away from French onion soup, your wind should be bearable.”

She gaped at him, torn between horror and amusement. He smirked.

“At the risk of sounding creepy, I actually know you quite well.”

“… I can’t believe you know about the French onion soup.”

“How could I _not_ know about the French onion soup?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, trying not to laugh.

“And I suppose _your_ digestive system works like a well-oiled machine at all times.”

“Hardly,” he snorted. “I’m a vegetarian who’s allergic to corn and most types of mushrooms. My digestive system is always angry with me, you just have a terrible sense of smell.”

They looked at each other, lips quirking, for a single moment. Then they descended into helpless giggles.

“We’re so romantic,” Tonks gasped. He pulled her body flush with his, burying his face in her hair and continuing to snicker.

“… I love you, my sexy, smelly girlfriend.”

“I love you too, my stinky werewolf.”

They both snorted with laughter. As their mirth slowly died away, contented silence once again filled the greenhouse. The light streaming through the windows was going a bit cool, indicating the rapid approach of twilight. Tonks pressed her lips to David’s collarbone, relishing in the warmth of his skin. She kissed him again, hands ghosting down his back. He cleared his throat.

“We, uh… we should probably go inside soon.”

“Mmm… in a bit.”

By the time they stumbled back into the house – disheveled and grinning – the sun was beginning to set, and snow was falling once again. The door was barely closed when they were accosted by a flustered Molly.

“ _There_ you are,” she cried with relief, grabbing David’s arm before he could even bend to take off his snow-covered boots. “We were beginning to think you’d never come out again…”

She ushered him down the hall, leaving no room for argument. He glanced helplessly over his shoulder, but Tonks could only offer him a bewildered shrug. She pulled off her jacket and hung it up, then hurried after them. She had a feeling her boyfriend was going to need some moral support.

She turned the corner to find the sitting room full to the brim with people. A sea of red hair told her that the Weasleys were all in attendance. Sirius and the Potters must have arrived at some point in the afternoon, and Marlene and Kingsley were sitting in a corner, deep in conversation. Dumbledore stood – tall and serene – in front of the window, and Ollivander sat in an armchair near the fire, an enormous trunk propped open at his feet. He looked the same as he always did – thin, bent, old, with a shock of white hair on his head and grey whiskers curling out his ears. But his eyes were bright and shrewd as they examined the young man Molly was all but dragging into the room.

All eyes, in fact, were fixed on David. Unsurprisingly, he did not appreciate the attention.

“… the fuck is this?” he demanded, glaring around at the spectators. “What are you all doing here?”

“What d’you think?” George said blithely, popping the last of a gingerbread biscuit into his mouth. “Watching you get Sorted.”

“Eh?”

Horrified incredulity could not save the recalcitrant werewolf. Dumbledore’s blue eyes twinkled as he stepped forward and pulled a very familiar hat from the depths of his robes.

“Oh, no,” David groaned, taking several steps backward and holding out his hands. “No no no, I – I appreciate the gesture, but I _really_ don’t think this is necessary.”

Dumbledore didn’t reply. He simply placed the crumpled hat on a small footstool and took a step back, turning expectant eyes on the former Reaper.

“I’m not _eleven_ , Albus,” David spat. “I don’t need some… bloody hat telling me who I am. I _know_ who I am.”

“Do you?”

“I don’t belong in your little boxes, and I never will.”

“The Hogwarts Houses are not meant to be _boxes_. If that is what you see, then perhaps I need to make some changes.”

The old wizard took a step forward and reached out. Tonks could see David’s shoulders tighten, but he allowed Dumbledore’s wrinkled hand to grasp his upper arm.

“Remus – “

“David.”

Dumbledore paused, blue eyes calculating. The werewolf raised his chin.

“My name is David.”

A pause. Then –

“David. I know you’re angry with me.”

The former Reaper opened his mouth, but Dumbledore raised a hand.

“You’re angry with all of us, and I don’t blame you. In many ways, we treated you no better than Tom did, or Abraham. I could offer excuses for my actions, but in the end it won’t change the fact that I hurt you, and I let other people hurt you.”

David was staring at the old man, his eyes wide and his mouth open in mute shock. Dumbledore drew in a long breath through his nose.

“I know you have very little reason to trust me. I haven’t been nearly as supportive as I should have been over the last fifteen years. Severus told me you didn’t really want to teach at Hogwarts, but I thought it would be good for you. If you want to leave when this is over, I will understand.”

The werewolf blinked, then cast a brief glance over at Tonks. She raised her eyebrows, also bemused by the coincidence. David’s throat bobbed, then he was looking back at Dumbledore.

“… wait, I – I thought the Board of Governors made you retire ‘cause of me.”

The old wizard dismissed this with a wave of his hand.

“They ask me to retire almost every year,” he said flippantly, shaking his head. “Last year they were upset because I was using government funds to improve the house elf dormitories.”

“Oh yeah, erm, speaking of which – could you apologize to Ellie for me? I meant to clean my room before her next visit but… obviously that didn’t happen.”

Dumbledore blinked down at the younger man, one side of his white mustache twitching.

“… you do know it is her _job_ to clean your room, do you not?”

The werewolf bristled.

“The word _job_ implies _wages_ , Albus,” he snarled.

“Hear hear!” Hermione called out from a corner. Tonks stuffed a fist over her mouth to keep from laughing and Dumbledore rolled his eyes heavenward.

“I’m not having this argument with you right now,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “The point _is_ that once you’re proven innocent, the Board of Governors will fall all over themselves to reinstate me. And then I will make it my business to get that petition of yours circulated, signed, and passed into law.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then David’s feet shifted on the floor.

“… really?”

“Yes, really. I should have thrown all my weight behind it from the very beginning. I thought it was too soon after the War; I thought it would never get enough signatures. But that was no excuse for leaving you to fight the battle alone.”

Dumbledore stepped forward again, this time grasping David by both shoulders. He shook the young man slightly.

“We will get werewolf children into Hogwarts. I promise you. If it’s the last thing I ever do.”

David stared at the old man for a long moment, speechless. Then he swallowed, blinked rapidly, and nodded before dropping his gaze to the floor. He brought a shaking hand up to cover his mouth and Tonks fought the urge to wrap her arms around him. Dumbledore – perhaps sensing that the former Reaper needed some emotional breathing room – took a step back and dropped his hands to his sides.

“So,” he said brightly, “now you see why you must be Sorted. In my experience, werewolf children are a very distrustful lot. They’ll be much more likely to try the Sorting Hat on if they know another werewolf has already done it.”

David shot him a rueful glance from under his eyebrows.

“That’s a… surprisingly valid point,” he admitted. “Though you probably shouldn’t tell them said werewolf was _me_. Then you’ll never get them to put it on.”

Dumbledore just smiled at this, an oddly knowing glint in his eyes. He stepped to the side and gestured expansively toward the crumpled hat on the footstool. David’s eyes landed on it then skittered away, turning to Tonks as he ran an agitated hand through his already messy hair.

“I still don’t understand _why_ ,” he complained. “Why are you all so obsessed with these… _labels?_ A person could be cunning, brave, loyal _and_ clever, where the fuck do you put them then?”

“I don’t know,” Tonks replied with an arched eyebrow, a challenge in her voice. “Why don’t we find out?”

He blinked at her, then let out a huff of frustration and shook his head, pulling at his hair until it stood almost straight up. Then he threw both hands out to the sides in resignation.

“Fine. Whatever. I’ll wear the stupid hat.”

Then – as though afraid he would change his mind if he hesitated – he turned, strode swiftly to the footstool and grabbed the hat. Turning back towards Tonks, he quirked his eyebrows as if to say, _here goes nothing_. Then he stuck it unceremoniously on his own head. It had barely touched the almost vertical locks of his messy hair when the rip in the tattered fabric that served as its mouth opened to announce its decision.

“ _Hufflepuff!_ ”

David flinched in surprise and dropped the Sorting Hat. It tumbled off his head and fell to the floor with a soft _flop_. Stunned silence filled the room for a good ten seconds. Then David brought a hand to his mouth to try and cover a loud bark of undignified laughter.

“Erm…” he choked, voice quivering with mirth as he bent to pick up the hat and hold it out to Dumbledore, “is this some sort of joke? If not, there’s, uh… there’s something wrong with your hat.”

But Dumbledore did not respond. He was staring at the young man like he had never seen him before. David shifted on his feet and waved the hat around.

“Albus, it – it’s broken.”

“… no it isn’t.”

After half a minute of trying to remember how to breathe, Tonks had regained her voice. Something that felt a lot like triumph was spreading through her veins.

“Loyal,” she said quietly, “open-minded, giving, compassionate, practical, hard-working and unassuming. A strong sense of right and wrong, a belief that everyone should be treated as equals. You hide it all behind a mask of sarcasm and anger, but there’s no fooling the Sorting Hat.”

David blinked at her for a moment. Then, slowly, he turned to look behind him. He was greeted by identical stunned expressions on Fred and George’s faces. When he turned back around, his brow was furrowed in obvious confusion.

“… you’re talking to me?”

With a frustrated scoff, she took three long steps forward and threw her arms around his neck. He caught her by the waist, hat falling to the floor once again.

“… I should have known you were a ‘Puff,” she murmured in his ear. Then the room erupted with noise.

“Bloody hell – “

“A _Hufflepuff?_ ”

“I did _not_ see that coming – “

“Holy fucking sh – “

“ _Language_ , Ginny!”

“… thought for _sure_ he’d be a Gryffindor.”

“Nobody’s going to believe this. _I_ can’t believe it, and I just watched it happen!”

“You’ll have to make him a new jumper, mum…”

As the cacophony of voices continued around them, David’s body slowly relaxed in Tonks’s arms. She heard him draw in a sharp breath.

“… wait, so… I really _am_ a Hufflepuff?”

She pulled back, blinking tears out of her eyes as she grinned fiercely up at him.

“Yeah, silly. That’s what the Sorting Hat just said.”

His throat bobbed and one corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

“Oh. Erm… well, that’s…”

“Unexpected?”

“I was going to say _completely insane_. There’s no way I’m in your house, you’re too… _good_.”

“Maybe you don’t know yourself as well as you think you do.”

It looked like he had another argument lined up, but he was interrupted by a beaming Marlene.

“Another Hufflepuff!” she cried, touching his arm. “Welcome to the best house by far.”

“I don’t know about _that_ ,” a booming voice said from beside her. Kingsley grinned down at David and held out a hand for him to shake.

“But I do know,” he said as the werewolf took it firmly, “that Hufflepuff just gained a good man. Congratulations, mate.”

“… thanks?” David replied hesitantly. “I didn’t actually _do_ anything.”

“’Sides be yourself,” the tall Auror said, shrugging. “You’ll have to get rid of that Slytherin mug on your desk. And I see Molly was a bit premature with the knitting.”

The werewolf snorted, looking down at his dark blue jumper.

“I ‘spose my personality rather defies expectations.”

“You can say that again.”

“This calls for a drink!”

A familiar voice called their attention to the tallest member of the Weasley family. Bill was standing at the entrance to the sitting room, levitating bottles of ale one by one from the kitchen into peoples’ hands. Tonks took hers, then caught David’s eye and grinned.

“To David,” Bill said, raising his ale. “Welcome to the Hogwarts family, mate.”

Everyone raised their bottles – even the man of the hour, who looked rather bewildered. Then they drank, and the room returned to a state of noisy confusion as half a dozen different conversations started at once. Tonks took David’s hand and turned back to Kingsley, well aware that they hadn’t had a chance to talk since their disastrous patrol in Lunar District.

“You alright, mate?”

His smile faded a bit and he nodded.

“’m fine. You?”

“I’m alright. Thanks to this one.”

She squeezed David’s hand and he responded in kind. Kingsley glanced between them, an amused glint in his brown eyes.

“’Puffs always seem to end up with other ‘Puffs,” he remarked, glancing at Marlene. “Ali was in your year, wasn’t he?”

She nodded, smiling ruefully.

“It’s a rather incestuous house, I will admit,” she said, then lifted her drink to them. “Here’s to keeping it in the family.”

Tonks laughed and raised her ale in response. She looked up at David, who still seemed bemused by it all.

“Knew I had good taste,” she teased before stretching up to deposit a kiss on his cheek. He leaned into her, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“We got a lead on your sister today.”

The simple sentence electrified the former Reaper. His body stiffened and he took a small step forward, golden eyes suddenly locked on Kingsley.

“Really?”

“We made the rounds at the block of council flats where your family lived,” Marlene explained. “I meant to tell you this afternoon, but I was a bit… distracted.”

Kingsley shot her a questioning look, but she shook her head and soldiered on.

“Quite a few people remembered your parents. One woman started crying when we said we were reopening the case. Does the name Asali Tareen mean anything to – “

“Aunt Asali?” David interrupted eagerly. “You spoke to her?”

Both Marlene and Kingsley blinked at him.

“… she’s your aunt?” the tall man ventured.

“As good as. She was mum’s best friend.”

“Oh. Right, well,” Marlene said hesitantly, “we spoke to her for almost an hour today. Whoever wiped her memory did a bloody good job, most Obliviators can’t come close to that level of work. But I think I can counteract a lot of it, given time.”

David didn’t respond for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was strained.

“So… y – you think she’ll remember me?”

“Yes,” Marlene replied immediately, smiling. “I think she’ll remember you.”

“And she _does_ actually remember your sister,” Kingsley added, “at least somewhat. She has memories of a girl named Amelia, but she thinks your parents adopted her a few years before they were murdered. She’s under the impression that Amelia went to an orphanage down in London.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then David was suddenly moving, putting his beer down and making for the fire.

“Hey,” Kingsley said, stepping in front of the smaller man, “ _hey_. Moody and Mrs. Tonks are looking right now, okay? They’ll find her records, I promise.”

“If you go, you’ll just be putting everyone in danger,” Marlene reminded the werewolf when he tried to dodge Kingsley’s outstretched hands. “Let us help you. _Please_.”

Tonks couldn’t see her boyfriend’s face, but his entire body was trembling, his back tense. She stepped forward and hesitantly took his hand again, pulling him back to her. With a little bit of persuasion, he turned. His mouth was set in a hard line, his eyes darting angrily from the floor to her face to the fireplace and back again.

“My mum is on the case,” she murmured, then let out a huff of wry laughter. “Apparently. She’ll find your sister.”

His gaze finally locked with hers. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded curtly and ducked his head, squeezing her hand tightly.

“Excuse me.”

Tonks looked over David’s shoulder to find Ollivander standing on the outskirts of their small circle. The tiny man was looking at the werewolf’s back, his gnarled hands folded in front of him.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, voice so soft that Tonks had to strain to hear him, “but I really must return to my shop soon. Mr… Lupin, is it?”

David turned slowly to face him, amber eyes wary.

“… Exley,” he eventually replied. It was clear that he had no idea who Ollivander was.

“I’m told you are in need of a new wand, Mr. Exley.”

Realization dawned.

“Oh. Erm… yes, I – I am.”

“Well, then. I need your measurements.”

The old man beckoned him towards the fire. David glanced at Tonks, and when she nodded encouragingly, he ambled slowly over to join Ollivander beside the enormous wooden trunk. Tonks followed them eagerly, perching herself on the arm of a nearby couch so she could observe the action. Kingsley and Marlene sank down onto the couch opposite her.

With a flick of his wand, Ollivander’s measuring tape flew through the air towards David. The werewolf jumped backwards, hands coming up in a defensive motion.

“ _Oy!_ ”

But the tape was not to be dissuaded. It set to work, measuring the length of David’s fingers, the size of his wrist, the diameter of his bicep. As it worked its way around his body, even measuring the distance from his lip to the tip of his nose, the man turned bewildered eyes to Tonks again. She shrugged, working hard not to smile. It was odd, watching him go through what every eleven-year-old experienced when they bought their first wand.

The tape measure was wiggling its way between David’s legs, measuring the diameter of his upper thigh, when the werewolf finally decided he’d had enough. He grabbed the flailing piece of ribbon and threw it back towards Ollivander.

“Is this really necessary?”

But the old man was barely paying attention. The tape measure flew back to him and wrapped itself around his hand as he perused the contents of the gigantic wooden trunk. How he had gotten it through the floo, Tonks couldn’t even begin to fathom. Ollivander was muttering to himself, eyes darting from one side of the trunk to the other. Tonks’s view of the inside was obscured, but she could imagine it looked something like his shop in Diagon Alley – packed haphazardly to the brim with long, thin boxes.

“Mmm… no, too yielding… he’s too bright for that one… _ah!_ ”

He drew out a long wooden box and stepped around the trunk, holding it out toward the werewolf. By this time, the others had noticed what was going on and silence was once again descending as they crowded around to watch.

“Yew and dragon heartstring. Temperamental, yet powerful. Much like yourself, no?”

David stared at the old man for a long moment. Then his gaze darted about the crowded room, discomfort clear in his posture. Ollivander pushed the box forward and quirked his eyebrows.

“Give it a try, Exley. We’re not getting any younger.”

The werewolf’s throat bobbed, then he reached hesitantly forward and wrapped his fingers around the smooth, curved wand handle.

“ _No_ ,” Ollivander said immediately, snatching it back without ceremony. “No no no, that won’t do.”

He bustled back to his trunk and David snorted incredulously.

“You can tell that quickly?”

“Oh yes,” the old man said absently, perusing his options. “Wands can be quite vocal if you know how to listen, and that one did not like you at all.”

“Well, the feeling was mutual.”

This grunted statement attracted Ollivander’s full attention. He peered at David over the top of his trunk.

“You have been using stolen wands your entire life.”

It was not a question, and the former Reaper shifted on his feet.

“Yeah, so?”

“They didn’t trust you, so they hurt you. That is not their fault.”

The werewolf bristled.

“It’s not _mine,_ either.”

Ollivander cocked his head, gaze calculating.

“You’re the one who stole them.”

“Tell you what, old man,” David snarled. “The day you give every child in Lunar District a free wand is the day I’ll let you lecture me about stealing other peoples’ magic sticks.”

The old man blinked in silence for several seconds, then swiveled on his feet to look at Dumbledore, who was watching the proceedings from the far corner.

“He _is_ rather prickly, isn’t he?”

Several people snorted. Even David let out a huff of annoyed laughter and shook his head. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Can we just get this over with?”

Turning back to his trunk, Ollivander hesitated for a moment before picking up another box. He approached the werewolf slowly this time, thoughtful eyes fixed on the wand he bore. It was long, thin and straight, a smooth knot of wood at the base forming the handle.

“Cypress and unicorn hair,” he said softly. “Perhaps a bit too pliable for you, but we shall see…”

He held the wand out. David sighed wearily, then reached forward and grabbed it. Ollivander did not immediately snatch it back, which Tonks took as a good sign.

“Give it a wave,” the old man encouraged, eyes fixed on the wand. David glanced unhappily over at Tonks, and she knew he was feeling a bit silly. He swished the wand lazily about in the air.

“Is it _speaking_ to you?” he asked sarcastically after several seconds of pointless wand waving. But Ollivander said nothing. Tonks looked over to find that the man’s eyes were full of a surprising sadness. David let his wand hand fall back to his side.

“… what?”

The wandmaker blinked rapidly, then shook his head.

“Nothing. Just… an echo of what might have been. You were a very kind boy, weren’t you?”

For a moment, all the air seemed to leave the room. Tonks struggled to fill her lungs, blood rushing in her ears. Then the moment passed, and David was pushing the wand back into Ollivander’s hands.

“Something tells me that one isn’t right either.”

“No,” the old man said sadly, turning back to his trunk. “Not anymore.”

He put the box back, then contemplated his options for nearly a minute before choosing another one. His expression when he brought the next box to David could only be described as apprehensive.

“Try this one.”

David glanced down at the long, almost white wand but did not take it.

“What is it?”

“Holly and phoenix feather. Nice and supple.”

Movement in the corner caught Tonks’s attention. Dumbledore was stepping forward, brows furrowed. David raised his hand, but his index finger had barely touched the wand when Ollivander was slamming the lid back on the box and turning away.

“… thank _Merlin_ ,” the eccentric old man muttered as he practically threw the wand back into his trunk. “That one will never find an owner…”

He cocked his head again, a thought dawning. Then he was diving forward, pulling an armful of boxes out of the trunk. David’s eyes widened, but Ollivander simply dumped the boxes on the floor and reached in for more. This process continued for over a minute, and the Weasley’s sitting room began to look more and more like Ollivander’s actual shop.

“Erm… Garrick?” Dumbledore ventured finally. “Are you looking for something in particular? Maybe I can help.”

“No, no,” the wandmaker said breathlessly, not looking up, “I’ve almost got it. I know it’s down here somewhere… _there!_ ”

With a triumphant flourish, he emerged from the trunk with a box in hand. It was stained with age and coated in dust. He brushed it off, then coughed.

“My goodness,” he gasped, “I don’t remember the last time a customer tried this one. So few adults looking for new wands these days, and no child would suit it.”

The lid took some convincing, but finally the box was open and Ollivander was lifting out a surprisingly ugly wand. Dark and unpolished, a large knot in the wood scarred its surface and bent it sharply in the middle before returning to its original course. Tonks eyed it uncertainly. That didn’t look like any wand she’d ever seen.

“My great great _great_ grandmother made this,” Ollivander said proudly. “The last of its generation, I should think. All its brothers and sisters chose their owners long ago and are now buried with them.”

He turned the handle so it faced David, holding it out in both hands like the valuable piece of history it was.

“Blackthorn. A warrior’s wand. I don’t make many of these anymore.”

David reached forward slowly, and Tonks half expected the old man to snatch the wand away like he had the others. But Ollivander’s eyes were wide, his face eager as the werewolf’s large hand wrapped around the blackthorn wand and lifted it into the air.

Tonks remembered the moment she first held her wand. The way the world seemed to _sing_ , rejoicing in the harmony created by compatible magic. Only experts like Ollivander could hear the whispers of all wands, but Tonks could hear _hers_. It spoke of power and of the future, of partnership and protection. She had used other peoples’ wands out of necessity at times, but they always felt like pale imitations of her own. Poor substitutes for the magic she was _truly_ capable of.

David’s expression told her in no uncertain terms that he finally understood this. He was gaping down at the ugly blackthorn wand, his amber eyes alight. Ollivander looked on, a broad smile creasing his lined face.

“… that was a long time coming,” he murmured, as if to himself. The werewolf blinked and finally managed to tear his gaze away from his new wand. He looked up at the old man.

“I didn’t… I didn’t know it could – “

“Be like this?” Ollivander finished for him. “You have abused your magic and yourself for long enough, my friend. This wand will help you find a new path.”

David’s throat bobbed. He was holding the wand gently, as though afraid he would break it. Job done, Ollivander began to pack away the piles of boxes he had upended in his haphazard search.

“What’s in it?”

The old man paused and looked up.

“Sorry?”

“The core,” David said, nodding to his wand. “What is it?”

Ollivander examined him for a moment, expression unreadable. Then –

“A single hair from the tail of a thestral.”

He returned an armful of boxes to the floor and straightened up.

“I have never used the material myself. It is… unpredictable, and mistakes during the wandmaking process can lead to rather gruesome outcomes. But Idonia Ollivander was exceptionally gifted. Witches and wizards came from all over the world to try her wands. It is an honor that this one waited for _you_.”

David’s lips curled into a disbelieving smile.

“Yeah, well… thestrals have always liked me.”

The wandmaker cocked his head.

“Blackthorn and thestral hair is a dangerous combination in the wrong hands. Idonia’s notes suggest that such wands usually went to people whose moral compasses were not easily swayed.”

He paused for a moment, contemplating the younger man. Then he gestured toward the wand.

“Take care of it, will you? It’s an antique.”

With that, he turned back to his boxes. Tonks jumped down from her perch and wandered over to David, joining him as he carefully examined his new wand.

“What d’you think?”

“It’s perfect,” he said without hesitation, eyes lit with a boyish wonder she had rarely glimpsed. “I can… _hear_ it, almost.”

With a quick snap of his wrist, he summoned the beer bottle from the table. Catching it deftly in his free hand, he let out a bark of triumphant laughter.

“First spell, and nothing burst into flame. That’s a good sign.”

He took a deep swig from the bottle, attention still fixed on his wand. Tonks could see a decision forming in his eyes.

“Think I’ll try a few things outside,” he said, shooting her a half smile. “Wouldn’t do to unleash a werewolf patronus on everyone.”

He set the bottle down again and started for the door. She cast an excited glance at Kingsley, then hurried to follow him.

“Your patronus is a werewolf?” she called after him as he strode down the hall.

“Probably,” he replied over his shoulder. “I’ve never been able to conjure one. Fire works just as well on dementors, I’ve found.”

He shot her a rueful grin as she caught up to him. She was too confused to return it.

“You’ve never conjured a corporeal patronus? But… you taught us all how to do it.”

“Knowing _how_ to do something and actually _doing_ it are two very different things,” he said with a chuckle. “First rule of teaching.”

Neither one of them bothered with a coat. He threw the door open and leapt down the stairs. Coming to a stop on the packed snow between the house and the shed, he hesitated for a moment and looked down at her.

“If this works, it won’t just be the wand that made the difference.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. His amber eyes were warm, a soft smile playing at his lips. Then he turned and raised his wand.

“ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

Silvery blue light erupted from the end of his wand, swirling chaotically through the night air until it solidified into a large, canine form. The wolf was huge, its body lithe and powerful as it loped away from them across the Weasley’s back garden. Paws the size of dinner plates made no impression on the untouched snow, and as it turned back their way, a slow grin began to take over Tonks’s face.

“That’s not a werewolf. Look at the tail!”

“Sure enough,” David murmured, eyes fixed on the wolf as it came to a stop several metres away from them. Tonks pulled out her own wand, then smirked.

“Your patronus won’t try to eat mine, will it?”

It was supposed to be a joke, but David looked surprisingly alarmed by the question.

“What? No! ‘Course it won’t!”

Filing the odd reaction away for later, Tonks raised her wand and closed her eyes. Recent memories flashed through her mind – David’s smile, his hands on her skin, the sound of his laughter.

“ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

The man gasped. Tonks cracked her eyes open. Something very large and very un-rabbit-like was trotting across the garden towards David’s wolf. For a moment, her brain refused to accept the image it was receiving. But when her patronus reached David’s, the two wolves greeted each other with an affectionate bump of noses, and the man beside her let out what could only be described as an exuberant howl. Then she was being lifted into his arms, her legs wrapping automatically around his waist as he whirled her about with reckless abandon. They were both laughing, full to bursting with unabashed joy. Then he was kissing her, one hand coming up to tangle in her hair as the other held her body firmly to his.

“… I love you,” he gasped into her mouth. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

She framed his face with her hands, pressing her lips to every inch of it.

“… does this mean we’re a pack, now?” she asked between kisses. He laughed, and she could hear the lump in his throat.

“You were always in my pack,” he said. “This just makes it official.”

A throat cleared discreetly from the direction of the house. The lovers turned to find Kingsley standing on the back step, an amused expression on his face.

“Thought your patronus was a rabbit,” he teased, jerking his head at the two wolves now cavorting in the frozen vegetable patch.

“A girl’s allowed to change, isn’t she?” Tonks shot back with a grin, legs tightening around David’s waist. Kingsley’s smile softened and his eyes flickered to the werewolf.

“You’re a lucky man, Exley.”

“Don’t I know it,” David replied, and she turned to find his awestruck eyes fixed on her. She smiled self-consciously and ran her thumb softly down one of the scars on his cheek.

“I love you,” she whispered for his ears alone. His answering grin lit the night like a sun. He pulled her to his chest, and the soft _click_ of the door told them that Kingsley had tactfully retreated.

For several minutes they simply stood there, wrapped around each other. His warmth seeped into her body, counteracting the chill of the frozen night. The silvery blue glow of their patronuses finally faded, and they were left in the surprisingly bright light of the waxing moon overhead. Tonks lifted her face out of the crook of David’s neck and smiled down at him.

“You’re a _Hufflepuff_.”

He let out a surprised snigger.

“Apparently so.”

“Literally nobody saw that coming.”

He shrugged.

“If you _assume_ , you make an ass out of you and me.”

She burst out laughing.

“Where’d you pick up that nugget of wisdom?”

“Think my dad used to say that.”

“Sounds like a smart bloke.”

He shot her a wry grin.

“Mum was the smart one. Dad had that sort of… Yorkshire stoicism that sounds a lot like wisdom but is really just shite he picked up at t’ pub.”

She giggled at this, running her fingers through her hair.

“That actually sounds rather familiar…”

He opened his mouth in mock offense.

“My wisdom is _real_ , I’ll have you know,” he retorted, laughing. “Hard-won from years of experience.”

“Mmmhmm,” she teased back, quirking her eyebrows. “That’s what they all say.”

He chuckled and tickled her side briefly.

“Alright, you. Let’s get inside, shall we? It’s freezing out here.”

“Mmmm,” she hummed again, burying her face back into the crook of his neck. “But there are so many _people_ in there…”

He squeezed her tightly to him, a huff of amusement shifting her hair.

“I thought _I_ was the anti-social one.”

“’m not anti-social,” she protested against his skin. “I just want you all for myself.”

“But _food_ ,” he reminded her. “And _beer_.”

“Hmmm. You bring up several excellent points, Professor Exley.”

Another chuckle reverberated in his throat, and Tonks pressed her nose more firmly into the stubble under his chin. Drawing in a deep breath that smelled entirely of _him_ , she let it out in a resigned sigh.

“… very well,” she finally conceded, lifting her head. “I suppose I can share you with everyone else for a while.”

He smirked, deposited a lingering kiss on her lips, then lowered her gently back to the ground.

“Come on,” he murmured, squeezing her bum with one hand. “I need to talk to Dumbledore anyway.”

She laced her fingers with his and led him back into the house. They quickly discarded their boots inside the door and headed down the hall. The Burrow was oddly quiet, considering the fact that most of its occupants were now drinking.

The moment Tonks walked into the kitchen, she knew something was wrong. Most everyone, it seemed, had migrated there from the sitting room, and they all looked vaguely ill. Molly was leaning into Arthur’s chest, eyes wide and distant, and Kingsley – who only minutes before had been smiling and joking with them outside – was leaning both hands on the table, head hanging down like he was about to vomit.

“Bloody hell,” Tonks blurted before she could stop herself. “What happened?”

Nearly twenty pairs of eyes swiveled her way, then focused intently on the man behind her. David’s body stiffened against her back. An awful silence descended.

“… for _fuck’s_ sake,” the man finally hissed. “What is it _this_ time?”

Nobody seemed capable of speech. Tonks looked from face to face, growing increasingly alarmed. Even Arthur – normally a rather implacable character – was pale and speechless. Tonks was about to once again demand an explanation when Dumbledore – looking older and wearier than ever before – stepped out from the back corner.

“David…”

“It’s Amy, isn’t it.”

The werewolf’s voice was hollow, flat, devoid of expression. He took a step backwards, hovering between the kitchen and the hallway.

“It’s alright,” he said firmly, and Tonks almost believed him. “You can tell me. I won’t… freak out or anything.”

“It’s not Amy.”

Dumbledore’s words were soft and sure. He took another step forward.

“We haven’t found her yet. This is… something else.”

David blinked and cast a confused glance at Tonks. She could offer him nothing but a bewildered shrug.

“Fucking hell,” he snapped, looking back at the old wizard. “Just _tell_ me. Did something happen in Lunar District?”

Dumbledore shook his head, but still no explanation seemed forthcoming. It looked like he was, for once, struggling to find words. Then a soft, frustrated noise from the back of the room called everyone’s attention. A blond woman was unfolding herself from an armchair in front of the small kitchen fire. When she turned to face them, Tonks barely recognized Fleur under the streaked mascara and splotchy cheeks. The young veela had been crying. Quite vigorously, by the looks of it. When her eyes landed on David, she drew in a harsh breath through her teeth. Then she let it out slowly, shakily, grim determination taking shape in her blue eyes.

“Monsieur Exley,” she said, voice soft and surprisingly calm. “I believe I owe you my life.”

There was a bewildered beat. Then David let out an awkward, stuttering laugh.

“… sorry?”

“Twenty-three years ago. La Malène. Do you remember?”

The werewolf went very still. His confused expression flattened into a cold mask, amber gaze freezing over. His lips hardened into a thin, resolute line and Tonks knew he would not be speaking any time soon. Fleur – perhaps sensing this as well – took several confident steps forward and snatched a small object off the kitchen table.

“My mother does,” she said, holding it up between her thumb and forefinger. It was a tiny glass vial, empty, glinting in the warm light of the fire.

“She sent me her memories. Everything she saw that night. Everything that happened.”

Fleur continued to approach, fist now clenched around the tiny vial.

“I knew there was something familiar about you. I was only three, but…”

She came to a stop several metres away, gaze sweeping almost hungrily over David’s features.

“… you do not forget the face of the boy who almost died to save you.”

There was a long, thunderous silence. Tonks found herself looking from Fleur to David and back again, waiting breathlessly for one of them to expand upon the story. To her surprise, it was the werewolf who finally spoke.

“Two hundred and seventy-three people were murdered at La Malène,” he hissed. “Most of them while they were trying to break through the wards that _I cast_. Don’t – “

“Remus, you didn’t _know_!”

Dumbledore was clearly too upset to remember the man’s real name. He was striding forward to join Fleur now, having regained his voice.

“You thought you were casting the wards to _protect_ them – “

“’Cause I was a _fucking idiot!_ ”

The cry echoed around the kitchen, making the dishes in the sink rattle. David was visibly enraged now, his body trembling.

“I should have known _better!_ ” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “I should have used an _imperio_ to get them out of there before we even _arrived_. But I didn’t, and now they’re _dead!_ ”

He paused for a moment, chest heaving. Tonks didn’t know what to say, what to do. Mere moments ago, everything had seemed so perfect, and now the situation was spiraling rapidly out of her control.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” the werewolf suddenly snarled, lifting his hands and shaking his head as he took several more steps backward into the hall. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Remus – please – “

“Stay the _fuck_ away from me!” David cried, shrinking further away as Dumbledore tried to approach. “Just – leave me _alone_. For fuck’s sake.”

He stumbled backward down the hall, then turned and made his way swiftly towards the door. Tonks stood, frozen, at the entrance to the kitchen.

“… Davie?”

He was shoving his boots back on when her soft entreaty called his gaze back to hers. He grimaced apologetically.

“… don’t worry, ‘m not running off,” he muttered. “Just gonna work on the car a bit.”

With that, he yanked the door open and left, slamming it behind him with enough force to shake the house. Tonks stared after him, mouth open.

“… that went well.”

Her cousin’s dark sarcasm was just what Tonks didn’t need right now. She rounded on him with a glare that she could only hope contained the full measure of her disgust. She hadn’t forgotten what David had told her barely an hour ago. Perhaps Sirius could tell what she was thinking, or perhaps he was drunk already – either way, he looked particularly miserable as he downed nearly a full glass of firewhiskey in one go.

“It was not his fault.”

Fleur was still staring at the back door. She was hugging herself tightly now, looking small and upset. Bill came to join her, rubbing his large hands up and down her arms in quiet comfort.

“They would have just found another way,” the girl continued, shaking her head. “It was not his fault.”

“Don’t think you’ll ever convince him of that, love,” Bill murmured.

“He was just a little _boy!_ ” Fleur cried, stamping her foot almost petulantly. “What could he possibly have done?”

“Cast a wandless Imperius Curse on all of you, apparently,” the tall man replied, gesturing towards the back door. “You heard him. Sounds like he’s put a lot of thought into it.”

Someone else took that opportunity to chime in, but Tonks was no longer listening. Her attention had been captured by something else.

A small bowl – chipped and unassuming – sat at the end of the table nearest her. It looked empty on first glance, but when she peered closer… there it was again. A glint of silver at the bottom. She took a tentative step forward, then another one. Kingsley was still leaning against the table next to the bowl, looking ill.

“Tonks…” he rasped, watching her approach, “… you don’t want to see it. Believe me.”

She looked up at him. He stared back, gaze beseeching.

“I don’t think he’d _want_ you to see it.”

Tonks hesitated, her mind racing and her heart pounding. She wanted to know. She wanted to _understand_.

Ignoring Kingsley’s continued pleas, she reached forward and picked up the bowl, bringing it close enough so she could peer down into the makeshift pensieve. A tiny amount of viscous, silvery liquid sloshed around at the bottom, but as it slowly stabilized an image took shape within it. A small, white-blond girl lying face down in the mud. The world pitched forward and Tonks was falling, tumbling into someone else’s memories.


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: This chapter gets quite dark. Strong violence, mentions of rape, etc. Please skip to the non-italicized text if you would rather not read it xx**

* * *

_She landed, weightless, on the ground next to an unspeakably beautiful young woman. This could be no one but Fleur's mother – long blond hair and graceful limbs exemplifying her veela heritage. But her perfect skin was stained with earth, her cheeks scratched and bleeding, her blue eyes wide with terror. One trembling hand rested on her heavily pregnant stomach, and the other held a small girl to the ground beside her._

_"Shhhh," she whispered shakily, rubbing the girl's back with her thumb. "Calme, ma chérie…"_

_They were huddled amidst a mass of tangled brambles. Dim light barely filtered through the dense bushes. She could hear shouting in the distance, the vague sound of men talking. Then footsteps crunched on gravel nearby, growing steadily closer. Fleur's mother stiffened, flattening herself as best she could to the ground beside her daughter. She pulled a long, thin wand out of a leather holster on her leg, holding it at the ready._

_The footsteps were slow, uncertain. They stopped right in front of the Delacours' hiding place, and there was a painful silence. The young woman's eyes were shut tightly, her mouth moving in what Tonks could only assume were silent prayers. Then the branches parted above them and a boy stuck his head through the brambles._

_"Wha' you doin' 'ere?"_

_Tonks knew he was ten, yet he looked even younger. His face was thin, the bones standing out from under filthy skin. His hair might have once been blond but it was now a matted mop of dirty brown. Golden eyes practically shone through the gloom, and the young woman brandished her wand at him. But he summoned it before she could even begin to utter a spell, catching it deftly with one hand. She cried out and shrank backwards, pulling her daughter with her._

" _Va-t-en! Va-t-en, ne nous blesse pas! S'il vous plaît, s'il vous plaît…"_

_She trailed off with a choked sob, and Tonks's stomach twisted. But the boy – David, Remus, whoever he was right now – just cocked his head, as though confused._

_"I'm not gonna 'urt you," he almost laughed. "We're 'ere ta help."_

_Silence greeted this statement, broken only by the faint whimpering of three-year old Fleur. The pregnant young woman just stared, uncomprehending, at the boy. His brow furrowed._

_"D'you speak English? 'Fraid I don't know French."_

_His Yorkshire accent – so subtle as an adult that it was almost nonexistent – was now prominent, his voice high and unbroken. There were no scars running down his left cheek, and his expression was shockingly open, unguarded in a way that Tonks had only recently been privileged enough to witness. A few months ago, she would have struggled to believe that Remus Lupin ever looked quite this innocent._

_Fleur's mother still had not responded. The boy's face twisted with concern._

_"Look… you're safe now. Alright? The Ministry can't get to you, they'll never break through my wards. You can come out."_

_Still the woman refused to move. With a frustrated noise, the boy pushed his way into the bushes and crouched down so his eyes were level with hers. He was wearing an oversized t-shirt that looked older than he was, threadbare green fabric practically swamping his body. Baggy gym shorts fell to below his knees, and frighteningly skinny legs led to tattered Converse sneakers that were about four sizes too big for him. A thorn caught the skin of his forearm, ripping open a bleeding gash. But he barely seemed to notice, settling down on his haunches and wrapping his arms around his knees. He contemplated the frightened woman for a moment, then seemed to reach a decision._

_"D'you want a fag?"_

_He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a squashed box of cigarettes. As he flipped it open, Tonks could see his fingers trembling. It reminded her a little too much of the withdrawal symptoms David had only just gotten over. He pulled a cigarette out with his mouth, then offered the box to the woman. She looked down at it incredulously, and the boy's lips pulled into a familiar, crooked smile._

_"Go on," he cajoled, waving the box back and forth. "They always make me feel better."_

_The woman hesitated a moment longer, then tentatively reached out and took a cigarette from the pack. The boy stretched his other hand forward, but she flinched away from him._

_"I'm just lighting it for you," he assured her. He snapped his thumb and middle finger beneath the end of her cigarette, and a burst of blue flame set the tip alight. Fleur gasped at the sight, her eyes wide in her small face. The boy smiled at her and did it again, this time catching the flame in his palm and holding it there. The tiny girl giggled and reached forward._

_"Non," her mother hissed, pulling her back. "Ne touche pas."_

_"'s alright," the boy said, shaking his head. "It won't hurt her."_

_But the young woman did not release her child. The boy shrugged and sat back on his haunches, lifting the flame to light his own cigarette. He took a long, practiced drag, golden eyes fixed on the two part-veelas in front of him. Smoke curled from his nostrils, followed suddenly by blood._

_"Shit," he muttered, pulling the cigarette from his lips and running the back of his hand across his bleeding nose. "Bugger, fucking_ shit _."_

_He let out a frustrated groan, pinching hard at the top of his nostrils and leaning his head back._

_"… sorry," he said, voice muffled. "This happens sometimes."_

_"You are magically exhausted."_

_The woman had a thick accent, but she clearly spoke English well. The boy blinked down his nose at her._

_"… erm… I - I 'spose so."_

_"You cast the wards that are keeping us here?"_

_"Uhh… aye. But… 's not to keep you here. 's to keep bloody Minions out."_

_"… Minions?"_

_"The_ Ministry _," he snapped, as though she was being particularly slow. "You know – the arseholes wit' badges? They're on their way now, but we got 'ere first."_

_The young woman looked as confused as Tonks felt._

_"The… European Ministry for Magic?"_

_"And the Brits."_

_"But why would they come here?"_

_The flow of blood from the boy's nose had slowed to a trickle. He wiped his face on his sleeve and stuck the cigarette back between his lips._

_"You thick?" he demanded out of the corner of his mouth. "They wanna recruit you. They want veelas in their army. Send you out beginning of a battle, distract us with your…"_

_He made a vague gesture to her entire body, looking rather out of his depth. Despite the situation, Tonks almost snorted with laughter._

_"… hair, or summat," he finished awkwardly. "Who knows why they do anything. All I know is, you don't have to worry about it anymore."_

_The young woman lifted her cigarette to her mouth. Beside her, Fleur spoke up for the first time._

_"Maman, ne pas fumer! Papa a dit - "_

_"Chut!" the woman hushed, pulling the little girl closer to her side. Her gaze was fixed on the boy in front of her, eyes wary and calculating. They flickered over his body, probably looking for her wand, but there was no sign of it._

_"What is your name, little boy?"_

_"I'm not a little boy," he snarled. "I'm head of Lupin clan. I'm going to be a Reaper soon. The Dark Lord himself chose me."_

_Tonks had to give Fleur's mother credit. Her face betrayed very little of the terror that such words must have inspired._

_"Forgive me," she said, voice soft. "I do not understand your customs. What is your name?"_

_He glared at her for a moment before answering._

_"Remus."_

_"It is a pleasure to meet you, Remus. My name is Apolline. This is my daughter, Fleur," she gestured to the girl beside her, then to her own stomach. "And this is my_ other _daughter, Gabrielle."_

_Some of the anger had left Remus's eyes. He nodded to Fleur and gazed curiously at Apolline's pregnant belly._

_"There's a… baby in there?"_

_"Yes. Do you want to feel her? She's very active right now."_

_She reached forward and took the boy's free hand. He let her press it into her stomach, right above her belly button. For a moment, nothing happened. Then he jumped, eyes widening as he snatched his hand back._

_"It moved!"_

_Apolline gave him a weak, watery smile._

_"Yes. She's alive in there."_

_Remus finished his cigarette, stamping it out on the ground as he continued to stare at her stomach._

_"… that's mental," he finally muttered, sounding very much like a normal ten-year old._

_"So…" Apolline ventured, only the smallest tremor noticeable in her voice, "you think the Ministry is going to… kidnap us?"_

_"They'll try," he replied, grinning, "but they won't succeed. You're under the Dark Lord's protection now."_

_"… oh. And… what does that mean?"_

_Remus blinked at her, nonplussed._

_"It – it means you're safe. He won't let anything bad happen to you."_

_Apolline paused, clearly choosing her next words carefully._

_"… that's good. And… you won't let anything bad happen to us either."_

_The boy's small chest puffed up indignantly._

_"'Course not! I'm the strongest wizard in the Lothians. Just stick with me, I'll protect you."_

_Apolline gave him another weak smile._

_"Thank you, Remus."_

_His answering smile was broad and confident. Then he made to stand, brushing dirt off the back of his gym shorts._

_"Come on," he said, gesturing them forward. "Let's get out of 'ere."_

_But Apolline's hand wrapped around his thin wrist, holding him in place._

_"No! Please!"_

_He yanked himself free._

_"It's_ fine! _" he insisted, anger once again coloring his words. "Nobody's gonna hurt you!"_

_"Can you guarantee that?" she hissed. "Can you look me in the face and tell me they will not hurt my babies?"_

_"Yes!"_

_"Even if my people refuse to bow to your Lord?"_

_Remus froze, mouth open in silent shock. Then he slowly crouched down again, hard eyes flickering between hers._

_"You… you refuse to swear loyalty to the Dark Lord?"_

_"He is an evil man," she spat. "He kills innocent people for_ sport _."_

_"He does_ not! _He kills only the_ guilty – _"_

_"All those Muggles at the music festival last week? Or the family he murdered in Paris? What were they guilty of?"_

_The boy's expression faltered._

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"You are an honorable young man," Apolline beseeched, grabbing his hand with both of hers. "I can tell that already. They are_ lying _to you, Remus – "_

_He threw her hands down in disgust and leapt to his feet._

_"_ You're _the one who's lying!" he cried. "The Dark Lord wouldn't kill someone who didn't deserve it. He isn't like the_ Ministry. _He'll bring an end to the suffering of my people, of_ your _people. Don't pretend they haven't hurt you, too. They_ control _you, they force you to live here! They make you hide your powers, they abuse you for even_ having _'em!"_

_"And how is the Dark Lord any better?" Apolline demanded, her voice hushed and urgent. "In exchange for protection, he will make us fight in his army. He will whore my people out to the likes of Greyback and Malfoy. We will be_ slaves _, Remus. Just like you."_

_The boy's eyes flashed. Then one of his small, filthy hands was whipping through the air, smacking Apolline so hard in the face that she was thrown to the ground. Fleur immediately started crying._

_"I am not a slave," the boy snarled, teeth bared. "Take it back."_

_Apolline huddled in front of her daughter, one hand pressed to her cheek. Remus loomed over her, shoulders heaving._

_"Take it_ back! _" he repeated, and his voice cracked._

_"I will not," the woman whispered. "I will not lie to you like the others do."_

_The boy took one step forward and crouched down again, pulling Apolline around by the shoulders. He shook her violently, as though he could rattle the words he wanted out of her like a missing part from a broken toy. But her lips remained stubbornly shut, her eyes hard. He stopped, fingers twisting in the fabric of her blouse as he glared at her resentfully. Fleur was still wailing, her cries high-pitched and sure to attract attention._

_Then he was standing up, bringing his thumb and forefinger together in a shushing motion. The little girl stopped crying abruptly, leaving only the rhythmic chirp of cicadas to fill the silence. The boy stared down at Apolline and Fleur, and Tonks struggled to reconcile the fact that he now held their lives in his hand as surely as he'd held the flame._

" _Please," he whispered. "Swear your loyalty to the Dark Lord. He can_ help _you."_

_"He helps no one but himself."_

_"That isn't true," he snapped. "He promised me_ justice. _The Ministry killed my mum and dad and locked me up. They turned me into a monster, they pumped me full of aconite and silver and cut my arm off six_ fucking _times. All so they could learn how to murder my people more efficiently."_

_"Then I am truly sorry for you. But you must know that he will not give you justice. He may give you revenge, but only on his terms. And in return, he will want your soul."_

_For a long moment, they stared at each other across the small clearing. Neither of them looked ready to back down. But then the boy stiffened. He cocked his head to the left, eyes distant as he listened to something nobody else could hear. Tonks tried to read his expressions, but a familiar, emotionless mask had fallen over his features. All she could glean from him was a faint sense of unease. Finally, his eyes refocused on the woman at his feet. Tonks could see the wheels turning in his head, but she couldn't begin to tell what he was thinking._

_A muscle twitched in his jaw. Then he lifted the back of his shirt and pulled her wand out of the waistband of his shorts. He held it out to her handle first, giving it an impatient twitch when she just stared at him incredulously._

_"I can get you through the wards. But you have to trust me. You have to do exactly what I say."_

_Apolline hesitated, one hand tightening on Fleur's shoulder. Then she drew in a deep breath and grabbed her wand._

_"Thank you, Remus."_

_The boy didn't reply, his lips pulling into a grim line. Then he turned and crept to the edge of the brambles, peering out from between the thorns._

_"Follow me. Stay close."_

_He darted out of the bushes. Apolline grabbed Fleur's hand and peeked out as well. Tonks found herself floating along beside them, weightless and unable to control her own movements. Witnessing pensieve memories was always a bizarre experience._

_The world outside the bushes was growing dim, twilight swiftly approaching. They were on a narrow lane on the outskirts of a small town, stone buildings packed haphazardly up the side of a rocky hill. The sky was a deep blue, shimmering with the tell-tale sign of an anti-Apparition dome ward. Apolline hauled Fleur into her arms and hurried down the lane after Remus._

" _Where is everyone?" she hissed when she caught up. He didn't look at her, eyes sweeping from the tall bushes on the left side of the lane to the steep gully on the right._

" _T'other side of town, mostly," he muttered. "You chose a good hiding place."_

_No sooner had the words left his mouth than he was hauling her by the arm back into the bushes. Tonks winced at the sound of brambles tearing at their clothes. Fleur was still quiet, indicating that Remus's silencing charms were a force to be reckoned with._

_They huddled against the ground for several minutes, the only sound the occasional sniff from Remus. Suddenly, the boy froze._

" _Shit," he breathed. "It's Romulus."_

_Then he was fumbling with the front of his gym shorts, hands shaking. Tonks, Apolline and Fleur all blinked at him, utterly bewildered._

"… ' _m sorry," he muttered, avoiding the young woman's gaze. "I have to do this. Otherwise he'll smell you."_

_With that, he leapt out onto the lane. They heard his feet shuffling against the gravel for a moment… and then liquid began to shower down through the bushes. Appoline clapped a hand to her mouth and closed her eyes, pulling Fleur against her chest. Tonks gaped incredulously. He was_ pissing _on them._

_Heavy footsteps were now audible, approaching swiftly. The shower of urine had only just come to a halt when a deep voice called out down the lane._

" _Lupin! The fuck you doing?"_

" _What does it_ look _like I'm doing?"_

" _McIntyre know you're pissing about on the job?"_

" _I did my part, wazzock. Why don't you go do yours?"_

" _This_ is _my part, mudblood. Making sure you stick to the plan. We don't want a repeat of Edinburgh, do we?"_

" _I didn't know the office had a side door, knob head. That wasn't my fault."_

" _Well, then. Shall we go check there aren't any… side doors you may have missed? The Ministry already got to this lot, they proved uncooperative. The others are taking care of 'em."_

"… _taking care of 'em?"_

" _Liquidating. Eliminating. Annihilating. Dispatching. You've a problem with that?"_

" _You could have just said_ killing _. No need to be so fancy about it."_

_The older werewolf let out a rough chuckle, and Tonks heard the muffled sound of a large hand meeting a narrow shoulder._

" _Come on. I'll help you patrol the perimeter."_

_They headed off in the direction Remus had been leading Apolline, footsteps fading slowly into silence. Tonks watched the young woman's profile, examining every movement of her features as she contemplated her options. Tonks knew what_ she _would do in this situation. Sit tight in a pool of werewolf urine and wait for the packs to go away. If a magically exhausted ten-year old had disarmed her that easily, Apolline had no hope of fighting off a fully-grown werewolf. Especially with a toddler in tow._

_However, Tonks watched helplessly as the young woman poked her head out of the bushes. She looked down the lane. The edge of the anti-Apparition ward was in sight, the air shimmering above the ground. Remus and the other werewolf were nowhere to be seen._

_Apolline was either braver than Tonks, stupider than Tonks, or so terrified she'd lost the ability to think clearly. She hauled Fleur back into her arms and stumbled into the lane, setting off towards the ward at a dead run. Her feet pounded on the gravel, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Tonks winced sympathetically at the sight of her pregnant stomach swaying from side to side._

_The angry shout came as no surprise. A tall, rangy figure was racing along the edge of the anti-Apparition ward, moving at inhuman speed. Apolline let out a ragged, desperate sob and tried to make her feet move faster. But there was no hope. The werewolf intercepted her on the lane, ripping Fleur from her arms and throwing the child to the ground._

" _Stupe – "_

_Apolline's wand flew from her hand, and the tall man snapped it like a twig. Tonks couldn't help but let out a horrified cry that no one could hear. The werewolf advancing on the young woman was truly terrifying. Shoulder-length black hair fell in unwashed strings about an unkempt face, golden eyes glowing in the darkness. His lips pulled back to reveal teeth that had been filed into points and his fingernails were long, either transfigured or naturally formed to look – and act – like claws._

" _What have we here?" he almost purred, stalking his prey. "A pretty little bird, to be sure."_

_He grabbed Appoline's face, claws digging into soft skin. The young woman whimpered, scrabbling uselessly at his hand._

" _Fuyez, Fleur!" she sobbed. "Fuyez!"_

_But the werewolf grabbed the little girl by the hair, hoisting her bodily into the air. Fleur struggled, but still no sound escaped her lips._

" _And a morsel!" the man laughed. "Mudblood! Come look what I caught!"_

_Remus stepped into the lane, amber eyes fixed warily on the unhappy tableau._

" _Shall we keep them?" the man suggested, shooting him a fierce grin. "They'd make excellent nosh on full moon."_

_Tonks barely had time to comprehend that truly disgusting statement before Remus was speaking, every word calm and measured._

" _Let them go, Rom."_

_There was a brief silence. Then the man scoffed._

" _Why should I?"_

" _Because I said so."_

_To Tonks's surprise, Romulus actually did as he was told. He lowered Fleur back to the ground and released Apolline's face, pushing her backwards. She fell to her knees, arms immediately reaching for her terrified daughter. Meanwhile, the tall man rounded on Remus._

" _You don't give me orders, mudblood."_

" _I just did."_

_Rom lunged for the boy, but Remus ducked out of the way with the ease of practice. Hard eyes followed the older werewolf's every move._

" _You shouldn't have broken her wand, arsehole. You've no chance against me without one."_

" _Maybe when you're fresh," the man hissed. "But I saw you cast the wards. Your nose was bleeding. You've nothing_ left _."_

_He lunged again. Remus evaded him, but it was closer this time. Tonks could see a flicker of alarm in the boy's wooden features._

" _What d'you want with them, anyhow?" Romulus demanded, gesturing angrily at Apolline and Fleur. "They smell like your piss, you were_ hiding _them from me."_

_Cruel realization dawned in his eyes and his lips curled into a frightening smile._

"… _oh, I see. You were saving 'em for later. The mongrel wants to get his little prick wet."_

_He laughed harshly and walked back to the huddled family on the ground. He grabbed Fleur by the hair again and dragged her, kicking and silently screaming, away from her mother. With a lurid wink, he threw the toddler at Remus's feet._

" _That one's 'bout the right size for you. I'll show you how it's done on this one, eh?"_

_He pointed a clawed finger at Apolline, whose bloodshot, desperate eyes were fixed pleadingly on Remus. The man grabbed a handful of her hair and shoved her head down, pressing her face into the gravel as he got to his knees behind her. Her pregnant stomach pressed unhealthily into the ground and she let out a miserable sob._

" _Thanks for wearing a skirt, whore," Romulus growled nastily. "Makes my job easier."_

_He glanced up, noticing that the boy had not moved._

" _Go on, mate!" he snapped, gesturing to the girl who was now huddled in the middle of the lane, tears streaming down her face. "Get your end in."_

_Remus's gaze flickered from the man to the little girl and back again. His mouth was open, his brows furrowed._

"… _w-what?"_

_The older werewolf rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh._

" _You queer or summat? Here, I'll spell it out for you."_

_He unzipped his trousers and pulled himself out. Apolline bit back another sob. Tonks watched in mute horror as the man positioned himself behind her. Remus's eyes were widening._

" _W-wait – what are you –_ stop! _"_

_But Romulus was pushing Apolline's long, floral skirt up over her hips. Tonks felt bile rise in her throat as he pushed himself forward. Then Remus was hurling his body at the much larger werewolf, a veritable human projectile._

"Stop it! _" he almost screeched, using his momentum to knock Romulus away from the woman and onto his back. "Leave her alone!"_

_Then he was pummeling the man with his small fists, a wild creature set loose. Apolline wasted no time scrambling to her feet and rushing over to Fleur. She gathered the girl to her chest and sprinted down the lane. Tonks floated along beside her, watching helplessly as Romulus quickly gained the upper hand in the fight behind her. He wrapped clawed fingers around the boy's skinny neck and slammed him into the ground. Then he threw him bodily across the lane, sending him skidding into the gully. Remus tried to pull himself out, barely getting to his knees before Romulus's right hand came down on him, claws slicing through the skin of his face like a sharp knife through butter. The boy screamed._

_Meanwhile, Apolline was pounding futilely on the ward. It shimmered under her hand, solid and implacable. As the sound of large fists meeting young flesh met Tonks's ears, she wondered if it was possible to be sick in a pensieve memory._

"OY! ALLAIDH! _Get off him!"_

_Another tall figure was striding quickly down the lane. Romulus paid him no mind, a hand once again wrapped around Remus's throat. The boy's feet were kicking uselessly in the air, his bloody face going purple as he struggled._

" _Get_ off _him!" the man shouted, and the tip of his outstretched wand sparked. "That's an order!"_

_Finally, Romulus obeyed. He dropped Remus unceremoniously and the boy collapsed into the dirt, coughing and wheezing._

" _What the_ fuck? _" the new man hissed, coming to a stop right in front of the two combatants. Tonks drew in a sharp breath and Apolline shrank back against the ward. This man was shirtless, and twin snakes twisted up his sternum. His blond hair was cropped short, more tattoos adorning his face._

" _What is going on here?" he demanded. "Speak!"_

" _The mudblood attacked me," Romulus spat, pointing down at the trembling boy. "He just went_ mental _."_

" _Remus doesn't go_ mental _," the other man snapped, a hint of a foreign accent coloring his words. "What did you do to him?"_

_Romulus_ _snarled something nasty_ _, but Tonks was no longer listening. The boy on the ground was staring fixedly at Apolline. The young woman gasped. There was a small opening beside her now, a thin gap of clear air above the lane. She pushed her daughter through without hesitation then followed, clawing at the gravel to pull herself free._

" _OY!"_

_Romulus was sprinting for the ward. But the hole snapped shut and he skidded to a halt, golden eyes fixed hatefully on the woman who was finally safe on the other side._

" _Remus!" the other man snapped, dragging the injured boy to his feet and shaking him. "What is_ wrong _with you?"_

"… _they're… in'cent," the boy managed to slur through bloody teeth. "We don't…"_

" _He's a fucking traitor," Romulus snarled, pulling a pistol from his belt and rounding on his fellow werewolves. "Step away, Vlad. He's in my pack, I'll deal with him."_

_Vlad's tattooed face was pale, livid, eyes flashing with rage as he glared down at Remus. The boy stared right back, expression oddly blank. Then Vlad pushed him to his knees and took a step back, holding out his hand towards Romulus._

" _No. I'll do it."_

_Romulus growled unhappily, but Vlad clearly outranked him. He handed over his pistol with a reluctant grimace._

_Apolline was still there. Tonks drifted, weightless, at her side. Neither one of them could look away as Vlad raised the pistol and pointed it straight between the boy's golden eyes. Remus stared down the barrel of the gun, calm and unflinching. Tonks tried desperately to remind herself that he must have survived this somehow, but it was hard to remember that as she watched Vlad's finger tighten on the trigger._

"Avada Kedavra! _"_

_A flash of green light blinded Tonks, and Apolline let out a cry of dismay. A body thudded heavily to the ground. Tonks blinked green spots of her vision… and found Romulus lying in the lane in front of her, eyes open and sightless. Remus stared up at his savior, then looked over at the dead man. But it wasn't over._

_Vlad tucked his wand back into his pocket, then pressed the barrel of the pistol into the boy's forehead and leaned down to catch his eyes._

" _I like you, kid," he hissed, voice quivering with rage. "You've more guts than the rest of your pack put together. But I won't cover for you again."_

_He twisted the pistol, pushing the end so hard against Remus's skull that it was sure to leave a mark._

" _You pull another stunt like this, and I will kill you myself. Got it?"_

_Remus nodded quickly, true fear showing on his face for the first time. Vlad glared at him for a moment longer, then stepped back and threw the pistol into the woods._

" _Get up," he snapped. "We need to help the others."_

_The boy struggled, pain now twisting his features. Vlad let out a frustrated huff and grabbed his arm, hauling him to his feet._

" _Get your head right, kid. You let yourself be manipulated by a pretty face. That woman was the_ enemy _, and you let her go."_

" _I am_ not _his enemy," Apolline snapped, quite bravely in Tonks's opinion. It didn't seem like anyone but Remus could get through the wards, but that was quite an assumption on which to base one's life. Vlad turned to glare at her, and once again Tonks had to remind herself that this was just a memory. Despite her now considerable experience with Reaper tattoos, it was still unnerving to see one so prominently displayed on such an angry young man._

" _Why are you still here?" he snarled. "Go away, or I'll force him to lift this bloody thing and let me through."_

" _Let him go," Apolline said boldly. "He does not belong here, and you know it."_

" _Oh, and I suppose he belongs with_ you? _With your precious_ Ministry? _"_

_The man laughed. It was not a pleasant sound._

" _The Ministry made him what he is. They made us all. And they're going to pay the price."_

_He clapped a hand to the boy's shoulder and started to steer him away._

" _Come on, Lupin."_

" _Please!" Apolline cried, pounding her open palm against the ward. "I can help him, I can give him a_ family _– "_

" _He_ has _a family!" Vlad bellowed, rounding on her. He stalked forward until he was mere inches from her face. The ward shimmered between them, a deceptively thin barrier._

" _The pack is his family," he spat, "and the Reapers will be, too, if he stops being so bloody stupid. You can't protect him. You can't even protect yourself, so just shut the fuck up."_

_With that, he turned and stalked away._

" _Let's go, kid," he growled as he passed the boy. Remus was staring at Apolline, expression once again unreadable._

" _Please," she whispered, beckoning to him. "Come with me. I will keep you safe, I_ promise _."_

_He seemed to be considering her words. Vlad came to a halt further down the lane, turning to look over his shoulder._

" _You coming?" he asked harshly. Remus hesitated for a moment longer. Blood streamed from three parallel gashes running from above his left eyebrow, down his cheek and over his chin. It would probably be weeks before they scarred over._

_With one last glance at Apolline and her daughter, Remus Lupin turned and limped back towards La Malène. As he reached Vlad, the man draped an arm around his narrow shoulders and turned to walk with him. As the two werewolves gradually disappeared into the gloom, Fleur finally let out a loud wail. The world faded, the image swirled, and Tonks felt herself being pulled up and out of Apolline Delacour's memories._

* * *

The bowl fell from her limp hands. Tonks knew, intellectually, that only a few seconds had passed. Yet the Weasley's kitchen felt foreign, unreal in the face of what she had just witnessed. It felt like she'd been gone for hours. It felt like someone had ripped out her lungs and filled her stomach with acid.

A strong hand on her elbow was guiding her into a chair. A deep voice in her ear mumbled comforting words, and some distant part of her mind that wasn't on fire recognised Kingsley's cologne.

"… Tonks? Look at me. Come on, love, look at me."

Her gaze slowly focused on Kingsley's concerned face. He was crouched in front of her, his hands on her knees. She blinked once, twice, then drew in a long, shuddering breath. He watched patiently as she fought a sudden desire to vomit. She let a breath out, then drew another in through her nose, closing her eyes and clenching her fists.

It was several minutes before Tonks felt ready to face the world again. She focused entirely on her breathing – in… out. In… out. She felt a brush of air as someone settled quietly into a chair beside her.

When she finally opened her eyes, Fleur was sitting to her left. Her gaze – somber, yet surprisingly calm – was fixed on the young metamorphmagus. Tonks stared back at her, and for a long moment neither woman spoke. Then –

"… I'm sorry that happened to you."

Fleur blinked, then dropped her gaze. Her throat bobbed.

"… so am I," she finally murmured. "But I do not actually remember much of it. Just a few things – his face, mostly. _Maman_ … she modified my memory. I sent her a letter yesterday, all but demanding whether your David was the boy she has always spoken of. I did not expect her to send the memory but… I am glad she did."

Tonks examined the older woman, brow furrowing.

"… your mum must have known who he was the second the War ended. His name and his face were plastered all over Europe, why didn't she come forward at his trial?"

"You do not understand what it is like to be a veela in France," Fleur replied with a sad smile. "If she had come to the aid of a werewolf, we would have lost the support of our community. She would have lost her job; I would have lost my place at Beauxbatons. She could not risk so much to offer help to a boy who clearly did not want it."

Tonks considered these words for a long moment, eyes flickering between Fleur's.

"And if he wants help now?"

"Then my mother can be here tomorrow."

The young Auror's lips tightened into a thin line, and she nodded once. She looked back at Kingsley – still crouched in front of her with his hands on her knees. She wrapped her fingers around his left wrist.

"… sorry I didn't listen to you, mate."

He let out a soft huff of laughter.

"Next time I tell you not to do something, at least _think_ about it for half a second, alright?"

"Alright," she replied with a weak smile.

"What are you going to do?"

She blinked at him and he elaborated.

"You going to tell him what you saw?"

"… I think he'll know the second he looks at me."

Kingsley grimaced. Then he squeezed her knees one last time and stood up.

"Hold on."

He strode off across the kitchen. Tonks followed him with her eyes, finally remembering that there were other people in the room. Molly and Arthur were having a hushed discussion by the fire. The plump woman's face was pale, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Most of the teenagers were huddled at the other end of the table, also engaged in rather subdued conversation. Dumbledore was talking to James and Lily in a corner, and Sirius was slumped over an empty glass in the middle of the table, head in his hands. Tonks wondered if they felt even half as terrible as she did. It was one thing to know, intellectually, that David had been manipulated and abused as a child. It was another thing entirely to see it happen.

"Here," Kingsley said as he returned, handing her a half-full bottle of firewhiskey. "Liquid courage."

She accepted the gift readily. Pulling the cork, she took a swig straight from the bottle. The horrible liquid burned all the way down her throat and she almost coughed. Eyes watering, she handed the bottle to Fleur. The woman followed suit, though her swig was more of a refined sip. She handled it well, swallowing it easily like a hardened denizen of the Hog's Head. Then she gave the bottle to Kingsley, who took his own drink before sending it full circle back to Tonks.

"I tried to curse that Romulus bloke," he muttered darkly. "Pulled my wand out and everything. Fucking bastard."

Tonks didn't respond, staring silently down at the bottle in her hands. 'Fucking bastard' did not even begin to describe her own thoughts about the man, and she suspected Fleur felt the same way. She hesitated, then took another drink and passed it to the part-veela. This time around, the woman's sip was less refined and more desperate.

"Did anyone else survive?"

Tonks didn't remember deciding to ask the question. But it was already out of her mouth, and Fleur didn't seem surprised by it.

"A few people, yes," she said softly. "They hid in the catacombs under the church. But my grandmother, my aunt, my cousins… so many dead, and for _what?_ "

Uncertain silence greeted this question. Then footsteps sounded on the wood floor and Bill came back into the kitchen. He made a beeline for his girlfriend, reaching down to squeeze her shoulder reassuringly.

"He is, in fact, in the shed. I didn't go in, but I just wanted to make sure he hadn't run off now he has a wand."

"Oh, that's right," Fleur said, grasping Bill's fingers tightly. "I missed his Sorting too, mother's letter came right before you two returned from the greenhouse. Is he a… Gryffindor?"

"Hufflepuff," Tonks corrected, unable to muster more than the barest hint of enthusiasm. "And his wand is blackthorn and thestral hair."

Fleur nodded vaguely. Tonks didn't blame her for not knowing – or really caring – what any of that meant.

"Miss Tonks."

She glanced up to find Dumbledore standing above her, expression grave.

"May I speak with you?"

Tonks stared blankly at him for a second, then shook herself.

"Erm… y-yeah. 'Course."

Shooing aside Kingsley's helping hand, she got shakily to her feet and followed the old man into the hall. He led her back to the sitting room and gestured to one of the armchairs. He remained standing, however, and she chose to follow suit, planting her feet and crossing her arms.

"Miss Tonks," he repeated, and he sounded like he was gathering his courage, "I need to ask you something."

"… okay," she replied warily. He folded his hands in front of him and fixed his blue eyes on the floor. He drew in a deep breath, then began.

"I must admit," he said slowly, "that the Sorting Hat's decision was quite a shock. To all of us. I would have readily accepted any of the other Houses, but… especially after seeing Apolline Delacour's memory…"

He trailed off, visibly struggling for words. Tonks felt rather out of her element. Comforting legendary old wizards wasn't her strong suit. Dumbledore straightened his shoulders and continued.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you this, but… David has never been very good at explaining himself. At least not in a way that makes his audience at all sympathetic."

"You mean he's blunt," she said simply, "and his first instinct is to drive people away from him."

"Exactly. But the boy I saw in that memory was innately kind. He thought he was doing the right thing. That is not a side of his personality that he _ever_ showed to the Order."

"What are you getting at, Professor?"

"There was an incident. A year before the War ended. I don't know if he's told you, but… we killed a number of his friends in a nightclub. It was a… reprisal, of sorts. For the death of one of our own."

A heavy weight settled in the bottom of Tonks's stomach. She knew exactly where this was going. Dumbledore must have seen the realization in her eyes, for his mouth tightened into a grim line.

"It was a terrible mistake. A result of poor communication and fraying tempers. We almost lost him over it; it took months for Regulus to sway him back to our cause. In the meantime… well, the war effort suffered greatly."

He sighed, raising one pale hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Tonks had never seen him look so vulnerable – so _human_.

"He has never fully explained why he killed Peter. To this day, I am not entirely certain Peter was even a spy. I always chalked it up to a drunken pub brawl. Peter got in a fight with an angry young man and lost. But… that theory has been losing evidence for some time now. And I am left with only one possible explanation."

He fixed Tonks with a solemn, steady gaze. She stared right back, jaw clenched and eyes blazing.

"You know what I'm asking you."

"Yes. And I'm not telling you a bloody thing."

But even that was enough. Dumbledore's face crumpled for a moment, eyes squeezing shut before he forced himself back to calm dignity. He drew in several shaking breaths before speaking again.

"… I asked him to keep an eye on Peter. And I asked Peter to keep an eye on _him_. I suspected that at least one of them was betraying us."

He shook his head and turned away, running one hand through his beard as he stared out the window.

"I _put_ him in that situation. And then I just… left him there. A Hufflepuff, for Merlin's sake…"

For nearly a minute, neither one of them spoke. The sitting room filled with the quiet sound of embers settling in the fireplace. Then –

"… fate can ask such cruel things of good people. It is a testament to his character that he still has a kind soul."

Dumbledore turned, a hint of a twinkle in his sad blue eyes.

"And it is a testament to _yours_ that you were able to see it."

Tonks couldn't think of a response to this. Thankfully, Dumbledore didn't seem to expect one. He strode past her, stopping to rest a hand briefly on her shoulder before he left the room. For a moment, the young metamorphmagus just stood there, staring into the glowing coals in the grate. Then she turned and followed the old man into the hallway.

She walked past the crowded kitchen in a daze. Her coat and boots were on and she was halfway out the door before she realized what she was doing. She paused. A freezing wind had picked up over the swamp, carrying with it the smell of mud and the faint sound of music. Warm light was spilling out the windows of Arthur's shed.

Emboldened by two shots of firewhiskey in a mostly empty stomach, Tonks stepped outside and closed the door. Her boots crunched on the snowy path. The shed door was closed, and she bunched her sleeve up over her hand before touching the frozen copper handle. The door swung open with a creak, and she stepped inside.

Music was blasting from the speakers in the corner. The television was sitting on the table, complete and working perfectly. What looked like a Muggle sitcom was playing on its screen, the actors drowned out by pounding drums and squealing guitar. David's feet stuck out from under the car, a plastic bag full of new supplies lying open beside him. His wand was lying on the table, a clear indication that he was taking a break from the wizarding world.

Swallowing a sudden lump in her throat, Tonks pulled out her own wand and laid it on the table next to his. Then she picked her way through the chaos and got to her knees beside the car. She didn't bother trying to warn him of her presence – he'd smelled her the second she walked through the door. Instead, she pressed herself flat against the floor and wriggled forward.

It was cramped and dirty under the Ford Anglia, dust and bugs and Merlin-knows what else mere centimetres from her face. But when David turned to look at her, cheeks smudged with motor oil and golden eyes lit with determination, Tonks forgot about the filth and her own discomfort.

"… hey," he said softly, lips curling up in a half smile. "Sorry I ran out on you."

She smiled back, propping her chin up on her hands.

"… 's okay."

They examined each other for a long moment, ear-splitting music somehow fading into the background of Tonks's racing thoughts. His expression was open, softened by his smile, and all she could see was the boy. One muscular arm shifted against the machinery above him, and all she could think about was how skinny he'd been. His brow furrowed in concern and all she remembered was the way his eyes had gone blank as he faced death down the barrel of a gun.

"Dora?"

He was alarmed. She drew in a breath, then realized she had no idea what to say. Instead, she lifted her chin to free one of her hands and stretched tentative fingers across the space between them.

He let her slowly trace the scars on his left cheek. Understanding dawned in his eyes, and she expected anger to follow swiftly. But he just reached up and pressed her hand more firmly into his skin.

"It doesn't hurt."

"… but it did."

"It was worth it. I wish I had a thousand more like it. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so guilty."

She contemplated him, lips pursed.

"You thought you were doing the right thing."

"Well, I wasn't."

"You did the right thing for Fleur and her mother."

"While my packmates were raping and murdering two hundred and seventy-three people on t' other side of the village. Bet you didn't see _that_ in the memory."

"No," Tonks admitted, "I didn't. But I _did_ see a little boy who stood no chance against people who were bigger, stronger, older, _meaner_ – "

"I was a more powerful wizard than the rest of the Lothians put together," he snarled, reaching up to tug angrily at the wrench he'd attached to a rusted bolt. "I should've killed 'em all in their sleep."

"Kill your whole family?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. "Sorry love, were you not listening when I rattled off all the traits that make you a 'Puff? You couldn't have killed the Lothians, any more than you could stand back and let them be killed at Tantallon Castle."

His hand fell back to his chest, lips pulled into an unhappy grimace, eyes distant. For a minute, they simply listened to the muffled din of the stereo. Then Tonks scooted closer to him, grunting uncomfortably as she maneuvered herself onto her back. Finally, she lay flush against him, staring up at the same filthy section of undercarriage.

"So. What's wrong with this thing, anyhow?"

He shot her a surprised glance and she met it resolutely, one eyebrow raised in challenge. His lips quirked.

"A lot. But I think we can fix it."

* * *

**AN: And on that note, I'm sorry to inform you that I have to take a brief hiatus from this story :( I've been severely neglecting my PhD, and at least some un-fun writing has to happen before I can return to the fun writing. I will be back, have no fear! In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	17. Chapter 17

Tonks was willing to bet an entire bottle of Ogden’s finest that Abraham Crowther plucked his eyebrows. They were too perfect, the edges too clean. His beard was just as well maintained; the severe contrast between bright white hair and smooth, pale skin made her wonder whether he cast a shaving spell every ten minutes.

Not that she _wanted_ to know the details of Crowther’s beauty regime. But spending an hour in a small, windowless room with a man did tend to make one notice such things.

“Take me through it once more,” he said, voice soft and eyes kind, “then you can go.”

“I’ve told you everything,” she replied, not even trying to hide her annoyance. “ _Four times_.”

“I’m only following protocol, my dear.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Very well. Auror Tonks. Start from the beginning and tell me exactly what happened on Christmas Eve.”

Tonks took a long breath in through her nose, closed her eyes, then released it. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, palms clammy. It was getting harder and harder to pretend she didn’t want to claw this bastard’s face off.

“I was on patrol in Lunar District…” she began, and immediately tuned herself out. At this point she could recite the events in her sleep. Almost two weeks had passed since that horrible night, and while she was by no means healed, she could now at least discuss the facts without inducing a panic attack.

As she continued with her fifth recitation, her mind wandered back to the Burrow, and the man who had tried so hard to conceal his fear when she left for her first day back at work. David didn’t want her anywhere near Crowther, that much was obvious. His hug was fierce, his kiss desperate – but he hadn’t asked her to stay. The thought renewed the steel in her backbone. David _trusted_ her.

She wondered how his interview with Lovegood was going. It was almost four, they would have been at it for several hours now. She had initially questioned Moody’s scheduling choices, but now she understood. Telling his life story to an eccentric stranger would do much to keep David’s mind off the fact that his girlfriend was in a room with his parents’ murderer.

“… and then we took a portkey back here.”

The room fell silent. She tried not to glare at the man across the table. His lips were pulled into a thin smile that she didn’t like at all.

“Thank you, Auror Tonks,” he said, tone ringing with sincerity. “One last question for you.”

She clenched her jaw.

“Do you know the location of the fugitive werewolf Remus Lupin?”

A single beat of silence. Tonks blinked.

“No.”

He examined her for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then he turned to the large mirror that comprised an entire wall of the room.

“Come.”

The mirror shimmered, glass flowing aside to form a tall archway through which three men passed. Tonks recognized one of them immediately.

“Mr. Mulligan,” Crowther said, nodding to the young man. “Do you have it?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied, carefully avoiding Tonks’s wary gaze. “Potions master made me fill out a form – “

“No matter,” Crowther waved the information aside. “Horace is an old friend.”

He held his hand out expectantly. Neil stepped forward and placed a tiny, clear glass vial into his waiting palm. Tonks’s stomach lurched.

“What’s that?” she demanded.

“Veritaserum,” Crowther said, as though it should have been obvious. “Now, my dear – “

“I told you not to call me that.”

“There’s no need to get angry. I assure you, this is standard procedure.”

“No, it isn’t. You can’t give me that without a warrant.”

“And I _have_ one. The Minister has granted me permission to use this at my discretion until Lupin is caught.”

Tonks felt her heart speeding up, her breath shallowing. She glanced at Neil, but he was still avoiding her gaze.

“That is a _gross_ violation of my rights as a British citizen,” she snarled, turning back to Crowther. “I refuse to take that. You have no probable cause.”

“Don’t I?” the man retorted, leaning forward across the table. His pale blue eyes had gone hard and cold, all trace of kindness forgotten.

“You are a known associate of Mr. Lupin – dare I say it, a _friend_. I’ve even heard reports that you are…” he grimaced, “… _dating_ the man. My agents have been scouring the country for two weeks now, with no sign of him. Even _he_ could not disappear that entirely without help, Miss Tonks.”

She raised her chin defiantly.

“I am an Auror, Mr. Crowther. I swore to uphold the law and protect the citizens of this country. I would not _help_ a murderous psychopath.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then raised the glass vial between them. It caught the harsh light of the overhead lamp, facets glittering in all directions.

“Prove it, then.”

She leaned forward, eyes fixed on his.

“Get a real warrant. _Sir_.”

“Like I said, the Minister gave me – “

“The Minister can’t make that decision without support from the Wizengamot – “

“Which he _has_.”

Tonks faltered, words freezing in her throat. Crowther cocked his head.

“You are not the only one who is trying to protect the public, Auror Tonks. Remus Lupin is a dangerous man and he must be _stopped_. Surely, if you have nothing to hide…”

He twirled the vial between his fingers. Tonks felt ice spreading through her veins. This wasn’t legal, this _wasn’t legal_. She forced herself not to look up at Neil again. The other two men had moved behind her, and she could feel their gaze on the back of her neck.

“I don’t have anything to hide,” she snapped. “But that isn’t the point. You could ask me _anything_ under veritaserum and I would tell the truth. It’s a violation of my privacy.”

“Come now,” Crowther laughed, “surely you don’t value your privacy more than the safety of our citizens?”

“Giving you carte blanche to question whoever you want gives you too much _power_. Ever heard of due process?”

“You’re an Auror, Miss Tonks,” he snapped, “not a lawyer. Stop using terms you don’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly, _sir_ ,” she snarled. “You’ve been using the Daily Prophet to scare the Ministry and the public into letting you do whatever you want. What’s next – cavity searches the moment we step out the floo? In case we’re hiding Remus Lupin up our – “

Her arms were suddenly jerked backwards, clasped hands pulled roughly apart as thick, enchanted ropes pinned her to the chair. For a moment she simply let it happen, too shocked to fight. Crowther watched with a grim expression.

“I hoped it would not come to this,” he murmured, holding up the vial of veritaserum. “Carl.”

One of the men stepped out from behind her and took it from him. He was tall and gaunt, his face sagging with age. When he turned around, he fixed Tonks with a pitiless grey stare.

“What the _fuck!?_ ” she shouted. “Let me go, you can’t force it down my throat!”

“Oh, I… think we can, my dear,” Crowther said, something almost regretful in his tone. He leaned back in his chair and gestured to Carl, who stepped forward and reached for Tonks’s chin. She struggled against the ropes, crying out as the rough material dug into her skin. She tried to morph her wrists smaller, but the ropes tightened in response. Her wand was out of reach in the inner pocket of her robes. Carl’s long fingers brushed her cheek and she lashed out with the only weapons she had.

Few things are quite so terrible as the sound of human bone splintering. When her teeth closed around Carl’s knuckles, Tonks could feel it echoing in her skull. Then came the blood, hot and metallic, spilling into her mouth. Then came the screams.

“ _You fucking BITCH!_ ”

A fist collided with her temple and Tonks saw stars. Another pair of hands came up behind her – one tangling in her hair and yanking her head back, the other forcing her jaw open. She screamed unintelligible obscenities, blood dripping from her mouth. Carl held the vial to her lips. She closed her eyes and _willed_ it away from her.

“What the – _sir_ , I can’t – “

The third, nameless man tugged her hair ruthlessly, bending her neck so far back she could feel vertebrae grinding against each other.

“Let it _go_ , girl,” a voice rasped in her ear. “There’s no use fighting this, you won’t remember anyway.”

Tonks screamed again in response. She may have no allies within earshot, but that didn’t mean she would take this silently. She opened her eyes to find Carl struggling against an invisible foe – the vial trembled in his uninjured hand as he tried to push it towards her mouth. Behind him, Crowther had leapt to his feet.

“What in _Merlin’s_ name – “

The vial exploded. Tiny shards of crystal shot in every direction, sparing no one. Tonks flinched as sharp pain lanced through her cheek and neck. The nameless man released her with a yelp and she reeled, agony mixing with fear and sudden, bone-deep exhaustion. She spat dark red saliva onto the table.

“ _… fuck… all of you_ …” she managed to gasp. Crowther was gaping at her, a thin line of blood running from his cheekbone. For a moment, nobody spoke. Even Neil was staring at her, eyes wide and mouth open. Then Carl broke the silence.

“I’ll wring your scrawny neck, you shape-shifting – “

Both of his hands were now bleeding profusely. His cold grey eyes held the promise of death as he took several threatening steps towards Tonks.

“Bennett!”

One sharp word from Crowther brought him up short, though his sinister gaze didn’t waver. Something twisted in Tonks’s stomach and she couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. Nausea rose in the back of her throat.

Crowther sniffed primly and brushed crystal fragments off the front of his green robes. They showered onto the stone floor and he sat back down with a deep sigh.

“We need more veritaserum, boss,” the nameless man said from behind her, his voice a mournful cockney.

“Mulligan,” Crowther gestured to the boy, sounding almost bored, “you have more, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tonks watched Neil’s exit through hazy eyes. The world was spinning around her, as though she’d had a few too many pints.

“Who taught you that, Auror Tonks?”

The question called her wavering attention back to the man of the hour. Crowther had his legs crossed now and was eyeing her with the self-assured expression of someone who already knows the answer to their own question.

“… no one,” she growled. Silence would do nothing to conceal the truth they both knew, but the lie was no better. David had indeed been helping her with wandless magic, but she couldn’t get too excited about her success; it had done nothing but delay the inevitable.

She really should have seen this coming. She had never bothered to hide her opinions from Crowther, and he obviously drew an accurate conclusion about her feelings for David. But she had foolishly assumed that rule of law would keep him from taking advantage of that fact. Even Moody had brushed aside her worries about the upcoming interview.

_“… it’s a formality, lass. Just answer his questions and try not to look like you want to kill him.”_

The fear in David’s eyes when she left was a more accurate prediction of what was to come. He knew better than anyone what Crowther was capable of. But she couldn’t just not show up, and so here she was – about to be force-fed veritaserum.

“You don’t learn that sort of control by accident,” Crowther remarked, examining his pristine fingernails. Tonks spat out more blood and laughed.

“… ‘spose that makes me some sorta genius.”

Crowther blinked, then looked up at her with a furrowed brow.

“Do you think you’re making a _statement_ here, Miss Tonks?” he asked quietly. “Do you think you’re… standing up for your rights, or some such nonsense?”

“I’m not letting you walk all over me like you do everyone else, if that’s what you mean.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw and he uncrossed his legs, leaning across the table to glare at her.

“You may not agree with how I do things, but I assure you – if it weren’t for me and my methods, you and a lot of other people would be dead now.”

She wanted to tell him exactly what she thought of his _methods_. But Tonks wasn’t stupid. Even _hinting_ at knowledge of the kidnappings and experiments would make her current situation infinitely worse. So she bit her tongue and settled for glaring mutinously at him. Several tense seconds ticked by. Then Carl cleared his throat awkwardly from a corner, where he had retreated to nurse his injured hands and bruised ego.

“Erm… sir…”

“Yes, go on,” his boss snapped, “you’re getting blood everywhere.”

Shooting Tonks one last hateful glance, the gaunt man turned and left the room. He walked through the shimmering archway just as Neil returned. The young man sidled past him and held another vial out to Crowther.

“Here, boss.”

The man leaned back in his chair again, looking disgusted by the whole affair.

“Give it to her,” he said with a bored wave of his hand. “And watch your fingers this time.”

Tonks had no time to steel herself. The nameless man grabbed her hair again, yanked her head back and forced her mouth open. Neil approached slowly, hazel eyes wide and nostrils flared. His gaze flickered down to the vial in his hand, then back up at her. Tonks just stared at him in blank exhaustion. She was too tired and sore and upset to figure out what he was trying to tell her.

Veritaserum tasted like tears – warm and a bit salty. Tonks gagged as it went down. She had read about its effects; supposedly it was not unlike being under the Imperius Curse. Warmth spread through her limbs and her muscles loosened. The nameless man released her. Crowther must have seen the effects manifest in her features, for he leaned forward once more. He took his time with the words, as though relishing every syllable.

“Auror Tonks. Where is the fugitive werewolf Remus Lupin?”

Tonks stared at him. This was the part where the truth tumbled out of her mouth against her will. And yet…

_Lie, Tonsky. LIE._

“I don’t know.”

It was hard, but not impossible. Either the potion didn’t work on metamorphmagi, or someone had tampered with it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Neil shift on his feet. Crowther’s features hardened into pale granite. There was a long silence. Then –

“Auror Tonks. Where is the fugitive werewolf Remus Lupin?”

She set her jaw and spoke through clenched teeth.

“I don’t know.”

Crowther stood abruptly, the legs of his chair screeching against the floor. He strode to Neil and held out an impatient hand. The boy relinquished the vial, face carefully blank and voice earnest as he spoke.

“Mr. Slughorn brewed it himself, sir. It’s working.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Crowther pulled out the stopper and held the vial to his nose. He sniffed it for several long seconds, unreadable gaze fixed on the floor. Neil had gone very pale. Tonks watched through hooded eyes, unable to feel anything but ill.

“Finnean.”

The third man stepped out from behind Tonks. He was average in every sense of the word – about David’s height but soft around the edges, his hair more grey than blond. His face was forgettable, ill-fitting shirt and trousers two bland shades of brown. In the back of Tonks’s potion-addled mind, she likened him to a human piece of toast. Someone so unremarkable could only be an Obliviator.

“Do it now,” Crowther said quietly, still staring at the floor. “And clean her up, I don’t want to see a single hair out of place.”

Finnean nodded curtly and pulled out his wand. He leveled it at Tonks’s face and a burst of adrenaline shot through her. She pulled at her restraints, but they tightened cruelly in response. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. He was going to make her forget this, she couldn’t forget this, _she had to remember –_

“ _Obliviate!_ ”

“I think we’re done here, Auror Tonks. Thank you for coming in.”

Tonks blinked at the man across from her. He smiled back, eyes kind and expression sympathetic.

“I know it can be… difficult to relive such awful things,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. His skin was cool and dry; calloused fingers rubbed her knuckles. Her mouth tasted faintly of iron.

“I’d like you to come back tomorrow,” he continued in the face of her silence. “We have a staff therapist who is trained to deal with exactly this sort of trauma. I want you to talk to her at least once before returning to active duty.”

She blinked again, slowly. Her mind was coming out from under a thick fog and she gasped, lungs filling with more air than she needed. She yanked her hand away from his and shook her head, trying to clear it. Crowther made a sympathetic noise that she hated.

“Oh my dear, I _am_ sorry. All my questions must have triggered a flashback, you look very unwell. Finnean, you’ll see her to the floo, won’t you?”

A firm hand at her elbow guided her to her feet. She swayed for a moment, then the man – Finnean – was walking her to the door. When had _he_ come in? She could have sworn it was just Crowther in the room with her.

“Take tomorrow morning off, my dear,” Crowther was saying. “Just come straight back here at midday.”

“… don’t call me that,” she finally managed to mutter as Finnean helped her out the door.

Beast Division was deserted. Tonks eyed the rows of empty desks, searching for… something. Her stomach was rolling unpleasantly, her head ached, and she wanted to lie down and take a nap right here on the floor. This didn’t feel like a flashback, this felt like the morning after David bought an entire bottle of absinthe at the Three Broomsticks.

“Are you feeling alright, Miss Tonks?”

She looked up at her guide – Finnean. He was about David’s height, with short greying hair and a forgettable face. He looked like toast.

_Toast?_

She was officially losing her mind.

“… I’m fine,” she managed to grunt. She tried to pull away from him but his hand was like a vice on her arm.

“I’ll walk you to the floo, miss,” he said mildly. He had a strong cockney accent, and he smelled faintly of green tea. The scent reminded her of her father, who was trying to cut back on caffeine. But this man was _nothing_ like her father, her father would _never_ …

What had this man done again?

“Right, then. Off you pop.”

She was so distracted she hadn’t noticed their arrival at the Beast Division floo. Finnean was standing beside the ornate marble fireplace, a pot of floo powder in one hand and an expectant eyebrow raised. She stared dumbly at him for a moment, then shook herself.

“Erm… thank you.”

She took a handful of the powder and stepped closer to the fire. His gaze was still on her; she could feel it on the back of her neck. She shifted on her feet, hesitated, then threw the powder into the flames. They leapt upward in a pillar of vibrant green and she leapt forward.

“The Leaky Cauldron!”

The world twisted sickeningly and she fell, plummeting through the floo network at breakneck speed. The floo wasn’t her favorite mode of transportation even at the best of times, and this was decidedly one of the worst. Warmth and light rushed up to meet her and she landed hard on her hands and knees on the Leaky Cauldron’s stone hearth.

She vomited. A collective groan told her that the Monday evening crowd had already arrived.

“Tonks? Merlin, lass, what happened?”

Tom’s deep, familiar voice sounded like home and warmth and safety. Weathered hands pulled her upright and a muttered spell washed away the evidence of her messy arrival. The elderly barkeep lowered her gently into a chair.

“Philomena, get her a glass of water, will you?”

Footsteps hurried away and Tonks blinked tears and soot out of her eyes. Tom’s thin face swam into focus.

“Are you alright? You look like hell.”

She wanted to melt into the chair and never leave. She wanted to crawl into Tom’s lap and cry her eyes out. She wanted a bottle of whiskey, a packet of chips and a shag with David, in that order. But something was very wrong, and she needed to know _what_.

“I can’t stay,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I can’t – I can’t stay here.”

She made to stand up, but Tom grabbed her by the arms.

“Oy, lass, take it easy for a mo’. I’m not letting me best customer run off into the night in such a state.”

She snorted, an almost hysterical giggle escaping her lips.

“’m not your best customer,” she whispered, shaking her head. He smiled, showing off several missing teeth.

“Alright, maybe not my best. But definitely one of my favorites.”

A busty, black-haired woman returned with a glass of water. She handed it to Tonks and gave her a dubious glance.

“I dunno, Tom, looks like she could use summat stronger.”

Tonks gulped the water greedily, then coughed as some of it went down the wrong pipe. Someone took the empty glass away and she sat there with her eyes closed for several long moments, desperately trying to calm her racing heart.

“D’you want me to floo your mum and dad?”

“No,” she replied immediately, shaking her head, “no, ‘s alright. I’m fine.”

She took a long, shaking breath in and let it out slowly. Her hands were steadying, her pulse returning to something resembling normal.

“I’m fine,” she repeated, and almost believed herself. “But I really have to go.”

She had to shake off a few more protests before she finally found herself on the dark Muggle street outside the old pub. The coat she had transfigured from her Ministry robes did little to keep out the cold January drizzle, and for a moment she considered following Tom’s advice and just taking the floo back to her flat.

But she couldn’t _go_ to her flat. She couldn’t explain why, but she knew it was no longer safe. Cold rain soaked through her hair as she contemplated the events of the last hour. She had described every detail of the Christmas Eve attack – _four times_. Then she’d had a flashback, Crowther sent her home, and here she was.

Here she was, staring off into space on a Muggle street in the rain. A taxi rolled by and splashed water all over her chucks. She barely noticed.

Her feet must have started walking, for suddenly she was nearing Covent Garden. If she took the next left, she could visit the Potters. If she took a right, there was a narrow alley that Muggles couldn’t see, leading down into an all-hours speakeasy that was a favourite during her days as an Auror cadet. She hung a right and ducked into it, picking her way between rubbish bins and deflated, muddy snowdrifts. Her feet were wet and freezing.

She was almost to the door of the speakeasy when footsteps sounded in the alley behind her. She shrank back against a bin, huddling into the darkest shadow she could find. A month ago, she would have called herself paranoid. It was probably just some punter, here for a few drinks after work.

The footsteps drew closer and closer. She dug her wand out of her coat pocket and gripped it tightly.

The man who walked past her hiding place was tall and gaunt, his grey hair unkempt and scraggly. He reached the speakeasy door and stared at it for a long moment. Then he turned around, and the light of the waxing moon fell on his face.

Tonks felt her stomach turn to lead. His grey eyes were hard and pitiless, and they flickered around the dark alleyway with a precision that made her wonder if he could see in the dark. She didn’t recognize him, and yet she _knew_ him.

His eyes fell on her hiding place and she held her breath. She could apparate right now, of course. But then he would know that _she_ knew that…

Her head hurt too much for this thinking shit. She lifted her wand –

He turned and opened the speakeasy door. A full minute after he disappeared inside, Tonks breathed out a sigh of relief and darted from her hiding place, running as fast as she could out of the alley and into the street. She set off at a brisk pace, trying – and probably failing – to look casual. She ducked down another alley, pictured the most random place she could think of, and apparated.

Robin Hood’s Bay was one of her favourite places as a child. Tiny and quaint, the seaside town was tucked between cliffs on the east coast of Yorkshire. Salt water lapped at the foundations of the village pub. She stood on the deserted beach, a harsh wind blowing off the black ocean and battering her fully awake.

_There’s no use fighting this, you won’t remember anyway._

She gasped, one hand flying to her hair. Phantom pain lanced through her scalp and neck. She had to get back to the Burrow. Someone was in danger. But she couldn’t lead them to him, she had to shake them firmly off her trail…

With shaking hands, she patted herself down. Could they have planted a tracking spell on her?

“ _Veritatum vestigium!_ ” she cried, waving her wand down the length of her body. It was one of the first spells David had taught them as Auror cadets. Her wand shot red sparks out the end and she cursed. Something she was wearing was charmed to send her location back to Crowther.

If anyone had bothered to shine a light out the window of the Bay Hotel that cold night in January, they might have been treated to a metamorphmagus strip show. As it was, the locals were all too busy with their pints and their pub quiz to notice Nymphadora Tonks shedding layers on the beach outside. She was trembling so hard she could barely stand, but as she methodically put her clothing back on – casting the spell with every item added – she felt an iron resolve shore up her backbone. Abraham Crowther and his lackeys were _not_ going to outsmart her.

Finally, she found the culprit – her brass Auror badge. She remembered with crystal clarity the moment Mad Eye pinned it to her robes. Until David had almost literally crashed into her life, it had been the happy memory she always used to conjure her patronus. The badge represented three years of tireless work during cadet training, seven years of stress about getting the correct NEWTs at Hogwarts, and eleven years of dreaming even before that.

There was no time to find the counter spell, and she couldn’t leave it on the beach for some Muggle to find. She tightened her hand around it, took a few running steps… and hurled it into the sea with all of her might.

A resounding _crack_ echoed through Robin Hood’s Bay. An old fisherman on his way home from the pub turned to look out over the beach. It was deserted; his only companions the wind and the waves.

Tonks knew she looked a sight. She knew that after this, David was never going to let her go anywhere without him ever again. But right now, she really couldn’t bring herself to care. Fighting her way through the snowy swamp towards the Weasley’s front door was doing little to improve her mental or physical health.

They had shored up the anti-Apparition wards around the Burrow so any visitors had to either walk through the intruder charm that circled the entire house, or take the floo, which rudely rejected anyone who wasn’t on the list of trusted allies. Tonks herself had helped cast some of the protective magic, but it was coming back to bite her in the arse now. A frigid wind was whipping over the moor, blasting the back of her neck with tiny fragments of snow and ice. The lights of the Burrow were very far away; the safety and warmth promised therein seemed unattainable. She kept stumbling forward. Someone was in _danger_.

In the distance, a door slammed open. She looked out from under frozen eyelashes to see light streaming from the house. Several figures were standing, silhouetted, on the front stoop. She thought she heard muffled voices, then the wind picked up again and carried any sound away from her. She reached for her wand to spend sparks into the air. If she could only get their attention…

A shout carried across the swamp towards her. One of the figures was sprinting her way, moving far too fast to be entirely human.

“Dora! _Dora!_ ”

He was there in seconds, pulling her into his arms. She collapsed against him, body quaking. His hot breath was at her temple, his lips pressed against her skin.

“Christ, love, what are you _doing_ out here? You’re _freezing_!”

He hooked an arm under her knees and scooped her up, turning around to run back to the house almost as quickly as he’d left it. Tonks tucked her head under his chin, hands curling into the front of his black and gold jumper.

“Davie, what – “

“Is that _Tonks?_ ”

“What happened? Is she hurt?”

“Over here, love, by the fire. I’ll get more blankets…”

Gentle hands lowered her into a squashy armchair. The heat of a roaring fire caressed one side of her frozen body. People were pulling off her soaked shoes and socks, casting a warming charm, covering her in soft blankets. Then large, calloused hands framed her face.

“Dora. Dora, can you look at me?”

Groggily, she opened her eyes to find David on his knees in front of her. She met his concerned amber gaze with a slow smile.

“… wotcher, my love.”

He let out a breathy laugh, sounding a bit hysterical. His eyes were searching her face desperately.

“What happened? Why didn’t you take the floo?”

She shook her head and reached up with a trembling hand to twist her fingers around his.

“Can’t take the floo. They’re _watching_ me. They’re _following_ me…”

“Who’s following you?” Arthur asked from over David’s shoulder. But the werewolf had gone very still, and very pale. His hands tightened around hers.

“What did they do to you.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a demand – hard and cold and deadly. Tonks drew in a shaking breath, and suddenly her eyes were filling with tears. A muscle in David’s jaw twitched.

“What did they _do_ to you?” he hissed again. She shook her head helplessly.

“I don’t know,” she sobbed. “I don’t know, I don’t _know…_ ”

She could feel the hysteria bubbling up inside her but could do nothing to prevent it. Her vision swam as she began to hyperventilate.

“Someone’s in trouble,” she gasped through the tears. “Someone needs help, but I can’t – I can’t remember, why can’t I _remember_ – “

Her heart felt like it was going to burst, and the world was starting to go dark at the edges. Then David’s forehead was against hers and his hands were on her waist, steady and warm.

“Hey. _Hey_. Breathe with me. Come on, just breathe.”

She hiccupped, her chest heaving. He drew in a long, exaggerated breath.

“ _In_ … then out.”

He released it slowly. She could feel his breath on her lips, could smell the chocolate they had learned was his favourite. She tried her best to mimic him, but she had to remember, she had to _remember_ –

“Just focus on breathing, love,” he whispered. “You can’t fix anything until you fix yourself.”

She closed her eyes and listened to him draw in another deep breath. Her lungs filled at the same time. He held it for a long moment and the only sound was the crackling of the fire. Then he released and she followed him. Her heart pounded against her ribcage and she started to take another breath.

“Ah,” he warned, “not yet. And… _now_.”

This continued for several minutes. She felt the paralyzing terror slowly drain from her body, leaving her shaken and empty. She found herself leaning more and more into David as exhaustion took its toll.

“What _do_ you remember, love?” he finally murmured against her lips. Her fingers curled around his biceps.

“… Crowther asking me questions,” she murmured. “He made me go over the attack four bloody times.”

“… and then?”

“Then… I – I had a flashback.”

“A _flashback?_ ”

“Yeah, I mean… that’s what he said it was.”

David pushed her gently back into the armchair and sat back on his haunches in front of her. She spared a moment to appreciate how good he looked. The last few weeks had been kind to him in more ways than one. Good food, friendly company, genuine affection and no secrets to keep gave him a healthy complexion and a filled-out frame that had every woman in the house stealing second glances. His smile was becoming commonplace, and she was no longer the only one who knew the sound of his laughter.

“Arthur,” he said over his shoulder, “could you call Marlene? We may need her help.”

The tall man nodded and hurried out of the kitchen. Molly was frantically making tea, whilst Ron, Charlie, and the twins stood around awkwardly, hands in their pockets. Ginny, Harry and Hermione had departed for Hogwarts that morning, Bill and Fleur had returned to their new flat, and Percy was probably still at work.

“Was it just Crowther in the room with you?” David asked, calling her attention back to him. She began to nod, then stopped.

“Erm, well, mostly. There was another man at the end… Finnean.”

His gaze narrowed.

“Finnean Lee?”

“I never got his last name.”

“He’s one of Crowther’s favourites. Relatively harmless on his own, but one of the best Obliviators in the world.”

“Oh. Well, he was there at the end of my interview. I don’t remember him coming in, though.”

“Hmm. That’s a bit sloppy. Gives you something to push on.”

“Eh?”

He drew in a deep breath, hesitated, then spoke.

“Alright, just… try something for me. Imagine a… a brick wall standing between what you know, and what you’re missing. In this case, you know Lee was there at the end of your interview. You’re missing the part when he came in. Put a wall there, then break it down.”

She blinked.

“You mean… in my mind?”

He nodded.

“I think you used wandless magic to resist the memory charm,” he explained. “Otherwise you wouldn’t even realize something was wrong. You would have just come straight back here and not given it a second thought.”

He wrapped a large hand around her knee and squeezed gently.

“Try the wall trick if you’re up to it. Or we can wait until Marlene gets here.”

Tonks shook her head and screwed her eyes shut. Time was precious, they couldn’t afford to delay any more than they already had.

She pictured the wall – crumbling and covered in ivy. She stood on one side with Finnean and the man from the alley – the one she knew, yet didn’t recognize. They were staring at her, their gaze burning into the back of her neck.

Raw magic was an ephemeral, unpredictable thing. Trying to bend it to one’s will was an almost impossible task without a wand. For reasons that had yet to be fully explained, small children were able to wield it more readily than adults, leading to the typical childhood accidents that most witches and wizards experienced. Few people were able to tap into it past puberty, which was lucky because overuse could lead to rather grisly outcomes.

Tonks had only ever been able to do small, simple things without a wand – closing doors, lifting coffee mugs and squeezing David’s bum from across a room. Dismantling a memory charm – especially one cast by a professional – seemed like an impossibility.

“Can I use my wand?” she asked suddenly, eyes still closed.

“Sorry, love,” he replied, and she could hear the shake of his head. “It’s not a real wall, you’d just blow a hole in the kitchen. Only way to break a memory charm without extensive training is with wandless magic.”

“Can you…” she hesitated. He had been very diligent with his wand the past few weeks, but this was an emergency.

“… can you help?”

“I’m not a legilimens. If I tried to help it would do more harm than good.”

Her lips tightened into a thin, determined line. He pulled one of her hands into both of his.

“You can do this, Dora. I know you can.”

She nodded shortly and furrowed her brow. This bloody wall was all that stood between her and the knowledge she needed. It was coming down, _now_.

Drawing in a deep breath, she _willed_ the bricks in her mind to crumble. Nothing happened. Finnean and the nameless man stared at her impassively.

“Concentrate. Think about every detail of the wall. What color is the brick? How high is it? Are you pushing, or pulling on it?”

She gritted her teeth so hard her jaw began to ache. Her fingers tightened around David’s and she _pulled_. He resisted her, turning her mental struggle into a physical one.

“That’s it, love, that’s it. Pull it down, brick by bloody brick!”

The top of the wall began to crumble, red dust showering down upon her. She doubled her efforts, letting out a cry as energy flooded from her body.

“Dave – “

“She’s alright, she can – “

“Oh, shit.”

“ _Fuck_ , she must have – Dora? Dora, _stop_. Just stop, Marlene will be here soon, you don’t have to – “

David sounded panicked, but she ignored him. She was almost there, she could almost _see_ –

“No no no no, honey, _stop, STOP!_ ”

Large hands were gripping her face, her jaw, her hair, pulling her head back. There was salty liquid on her lips, it would make her tell the truth but she couldn’t tell him, she had to _lie_ , but they were forcing it down her throat –

“ _GET OFF ME!_ ”

The hands were torn from her, the ropes that held her down ripped away. Glass shattered as the vial of veritaserum went flying –

Tonks blinked. She was on her feet in the Weasley’s kitchen. It looked like a bomb had gone off. Chairs were upended, china plates lay in pieces upon the flagstones, and ginger heads were peeking out from behind the table. David was sprawled on the floor at her feet, hair in disarray and golden eyes wide with shock. There was a moment of stunned silence. Then he slowly held up one hand, palm facing her.

“… Dora?”

She drew in a sharp breath and the exhaustion overwhelmed her. Her knees buckled and he scrambled forward, barely catching her before she hit the floor. Her face was wet, her lips sticky. She tasted iron on her tongue. Why was she bleeding?

“ _Shit_ ,” he hissed angrily, pressing her to his rapidly beating heart. “Bugger fucking _shit_ , I am such an _idiot_. You were already close to exhaustion, I should have reali – “

“ _Neil_.”

She croaked the name through the blood running down her throat. Her empty stomach was doing backflips.

“Neil?” he repeated. “Mulligan?”

“He did something to the veritaserum,” she gasped, closing her eyes and leaning her head against his chest. “It didn’t work, I didn’t… I didn’t tell him where you were.”

David’s arms tightened around her.

“Mulligan tampered with the potion?”

She nodded wordlessly into his jumper. David cursed under his breath.

“Molly,” he said over Tonks’s head, “get Albus.”

Footsteps hurried away.

“Crowther knew,” Tonks moaned. “He _knew_. And when I… Neil was gone, I don’t know what they…”

“They’re probably interrogating him right now,” David growled, pressing his forehead to Tonks’s. “I have to go, Dora. _I love you_.”

She was being lifted again, placed back in the squashy armchair. A messy, desperate kiss was pressed to her forehead, then the werewolf’s arms began to disentangle from hers. She grasped at him instinctively.

“… where are you… no…”

“Neil doesn’t know where you are, remember?” another voice – Charlie – said distantly. “He didn’t want to know for this exact reason. You don’t have to leave, mate.”

“Yes, I _do_ ,” David insisted, trying to pry Tonks’s fingers out of his jumper.

“But even if they give him veritaserum – “

“You don’t get it!” the werewolf cried, finally tearing himself free and leaping to his feet. “If I don’t give myself up right now, they will _kill him_.”

The words rang like a bell in the silent kitchen. Then David was surging forward, making for the hallway. Tonks watched helplessly, too sick to even crawl after him.

But she was no longer the only person willing to challenge David Exley and his martyr complex. Ron Weasley stepped into his path, crossing muscular arms over a broad chest. The skinny boy had also filled out over the last few weeks, though this had less to do with a healthier lifestyle and more to do with his recently acquired medical condition.

“What d’you mean, _give yourself up?_ ” he demanded, amber eyes flashing down at his former professor. “To the Ministry? That’s suicide, and you know it.”

David tried to sidestep the boy, to no avail.

“Didn’t you hear what I said? They’re going to _kill_ – “

“That’s ludicrous, mate. Crowther isn’t going to murder one of his own – “

“You don’t know him like I do. Please, I have to – “

Molly and Arthur burst back into the room, followed swiftly by Marlene. The former Obliviator already had her wand out.

“Where is she? How did she – “

“She already broke the memory charm,” David said impatiently, trying once again to push past Ron. “Crowther forced veritaserum on her to find out where I am, but Mulligan tampered with it. When Albus gets here – “

“He wasn’t in his office – “

“ – tell him to publish the damn article. I have to go to the Ministry.”

He tried to dodge Ron again, but the boy finally wrapped an arm around his chest and physically restrained him.

“You’re not going _anywhere_ , you loon – “

“Ron, I really don’t want to hurt you – “

“As if you could – “

“Let me _go_ – “

“ _David Josiah Exley!_ ”

Molly Weasley was accustomed to commanding respect. Her tone invited no argument, and when she pulled the two struggling werewolves apart and pushed David back into the kitchen with one finger, he wilted under the force of her glare.

“Molly, I _really_ have to – “

“Sit _down,_ young man.”

“Neil is going to _die!_ ”

“Stop being melodramatic. Crowther wouldn’t gain anything from killing Neil, it would only bring suspicion down on his department.”

“He’s going to make it look like _I_ did it!” David cried, shaking his hands in the air in frustration. “He knows how to get to me, Molly, he knows that I protect the people I care about! I’m honestly surprised he let Dora go!”

“He didn’t, really.”

Everyone turned back to Tonks. She met David’s gaze as steadily as she could.

“Some creep named Carl followed me out of the Ministry. I managed to lose him in Covent Garden. And they planted a tracker on me as well, but I found it and threw it away.”

For a moment, she thought David was going to be sick. His face had gone very pale, and he took three steps towards her then stopped abruptly. He raised a trembling hand to his mouth and looked down at the floor. There was a long silence. Then –

“Carl Bennett is one of the men who killed my parents. You were supposed to die tonight.”

He stared into space for a moment longer. Then he looked up, eyes wild and bloodshot.

“I told Lovegood everything he needs to write the article. My testimony holds no weight in court. Crowther’s fate is out of my hands. But I can still help Neil, and I can make sure they never come after Dora again. So if there are no further objections…”

He turned and made for the door. The floo sounded from down the hall, but Tonks could barely hear it over the rushing in her ears. David was giving himself up to Crowther. She honestly didn’t know what else she had expected. It was the logical decision, the _only_ decision he could make and still be the man she loved.

_I was so tired of sitting there, letting people die because I couldn’t blow my cover._

“I love you.”

David looked back from the hallway, gaze watery and incredulous. Ron had finally, reluctantly let him pass.

“I _love_ you,” she said again. “You’re a good man, David Exley.”

He blinked rapidly, lips pulling into a tight smile. Then he nodded once and turned to stride down the hall and out of sight.

“Where are _you_ off to?”

Alastor Moody’s gruff baritone was a welcome surprise. The _thump_ of his wooden leg came to a stop and though Tonks couldn’t see him, she knew he was standing with his arms crossed, blocking the entire corridor. David let out a muffled groan.

“… for fuck’s sake, Moody, just get out of the way, will you? Mulligan’s in trouble.”

A single beat of silence. Then –

“Mulligan is _dead_ , lad. One of the Auror patrols just pulled his body out the Thames.”


	18. Chapter 18

"You're going to pay for this, you fucking bastard."

Charlie's voice floated out of the muddled ether of Tonks's brain. She blinked. Warm firelight flickered off flagstones and a crowded kitchen. Half the Weasley family was seated at the long wooden table, their arms and legs tied to the chairs. Alastor Moody was slumped in an armchair next to her, blood trickling from his temple and thick cords holding him firmly in place. They were rather superfluous at the moment, seeing as he was out cold.

A soft gasp sounded from her left and a trembling hand tightened its grip on her ankle. Tonks looked down to find Marlene Mackinnon huddled at her feet, knees pulled to her chin and wide, terrified eyes fixed upon…

"Shut your mouth, Weasley," Lupin muttered from his post at the window, "or I'll shut it for you."

Oh yes. She had definitely missed something.

"They know you're here," Charlie hissed. "Neil broke your _imperio_ and told them all the people you've been threatening. Beast Division probably checked the others already. It's process of elimination, _Reaper_ , your time's up."

"You're right," the werewolf replied vaguely, golden eyes still scanning the dark swamp outside. "Only question is, how many people are going down with me…"

The clock chimed loudly and Tonks nearly jumped out of her skin. She peered up at it. The Weasley family clock had always struck her as an odd and rather useless antique. The hands were never on anything other than "Home", "School", or "Work". Now, however, every single one of them was pointed straight at "Mortal Peril". Her heart skipped a beat.

Lupin cursed, eyes now fixed on the clock. It was quarter to seven, indicating that the chime marked something other than the passage of time. Charlie, too, seemed to know this.

"Speak of the devil," he crowed triumphantly. "They're going to pump you so full of silver it'll be coming out your ears."

"Shut the _fuck up_ ," Lupin snarled, striding to the table. Charlie was the only member of his family who seemed capable of speech. Arthur, Molly, Ron and the twins were silent and pale, wearing similar expressions of shell-shocked terror. Lupin grabbed the Weasley patriarch by the front of his shirt, sticking his scarred face down into the older man's line of sight.

"Keep your family _quiet_ ," he hissed. "Understand? Else we may have a repeat of yesterday. You don't want that, do you?"

Arthur hesitated, brows furrowed.

"… w – what happened yesterday?"

"The _cruciatus!_ " Lupin snapped, shaking the man. "'member? First you, then the bitch," he pointed at Molly, who shrank back, "then your snivelling sons. Keep 'em all quiet or I swear to God – "

Three knocks on the door in rapid succession. The werewolf's threat stuttered to a halt. If Tonks didn't know better, she would say that was genuine fear in his eyes. Then he was turning away from Arthur and striding towards her. Tonks couldn't help but press herself back into her armchair. This was a Reaper, a murderer, a wanted fugitive. He'd been blackmailing them for two weeks, forcing them to hide him from the Ministry, threatening their families…

Hadn't he?

"Don't try anything," he was saying through gritted teeth, staring coldly down at her. "I know you Auror types, always looking to be heroes. Just sit there and keep your mouth shut. That goes for you, too."

He jerked his chin at Marlene, who whimpered and nodded, averting her gaze. There was another loud knock at the door.

"It's Beast Division, open up!"

There it was again – that flash of fear. Tonks narrowed her eyes at her former professor.

"… Remus?"

He drew in a sharp breath, the fear turning into outright horror. He crouched down in front of her and reached forward, taking her face in his hands. Only when his calloused fingers brushed her temples did she realize that this motion should have frightened her.

"Don't call me that," he whispered, golden eyes darting between hers. "You hate me. You _hate me_."

Suddenly she remembered. She remembered him attacking her while she was walking back to Grimmauld Place after the Atrium ceiling collapsed. She remembered him using threats and pain and the Imperius Curse to keep them all in line, to keep himself safe. She remembered him… _forcing_ himself upon her –

" _Get away from me!_ "

Her hand met his cheekbone with a solid _smack_ and he fell backwards. She tried to follow him, to keep hitting him, but ropes confined her to the armchair.

"You _bastard!_ " she shrieked, struggling against the restraints. "Evil – fucking – _bastard!_ "

The front door burst inwards with a screech of splintered wood and an almighty _crash_. Burly men in the grey uniform of the WCU poured into the room, some armed with wands, others with firearms that seemed larger than necessary. Tonks had never felt so relieved. Finally, they were _safe_.

Then Lupin was moving, casting a shield charm around himself, the two women beside him, and the unconscious Moody. Several tranquilizers flew from WCU guns and blunted themselves upon the shield, clattering to the floor. Then Tonks felt the tip of a wand brush her forehead. She looked up. It was _her_ wand.

"Stay back, all of you!" Lupin cried, knuckles white around his stolen wand. "Stay back, or I'll kill them!"

"Go ahead, Lupin," a soft voice said from the doorway. "That is a small price to pay for your capture."

Abraham Crowther stepped out of the shadows and into the warm light of the kitchen. His blue eyes were fixed on the werewolf, his mouth pulled into a thin smile.

"Of course, if you _do_ kill them," he remarked casually, "you won't have anything with which to bargain."

Lupin hesitated, desperate gaze darting about the room. He was now all but surrounded, his back to the fire. The tip of his wand dug more firmly into Tonks's skin, and Marlene let out another miserable whimper on the floor.

"Thank _Merlin_ ," Molly Weasley gasped from across the room. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her chest was heaving as though she had only just remembered how to breathe. "Oh, thank Merlin, we're saved."

Crowther shot the woman an unreadable glance. His eyes slid over the rest of the red-haired family, taking in their restraints and terrified faces.

"Grimblethwaite, Vinaj," he said, and two men peeled away from the others to stand before him. "Take the Weasleys into the other room. They don't need to see this."

The two grim-faced men nodded curtly and went to follow his orders. As they untied the ropes with a few flicks of their wands, Crowther spoke again.

"Question them. _Thoroughly_. This is too clean, I don't like it."

His men nodded again, then led the traumatized family out of the kitchen. But Charlie resisted his removal, venomous gaze fixed on Lupin.

"Let her _go_ , you son of a – "

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," Crowther interrupted serenely, "we have it well in hand. Please go with the others."

The young man looked ready for a fight. Tonks caught his eye, unable to hide her fear. She couldn't move, couldn't fight, and she was so bloody _tired_ … But there was nothing Charlie could do, and she watched as he finally, reluctantly let himself be guided out of the room. The door closed and Crowther took a few slow steps forward. His calculating gaze flickered between Lupin, Tonks, and the unconscious old man in the armchair.

" _I_ was under the impression," he said carefully, "that these people were aiding you _willingly_."

Lupin let out a bark of laughter and shifted his grip on his wand.

"They were," he snapped. "In exchange, I didn't kill them or their loved ones. Seems like a fair trade to me."

Crowther cocked his head, smile still firmly in place.

"Oh, Remus. You never were a very good liar. How you survived Tantallon Castle is frankly beyond me."

The Reaper did not respond to this. Tonks dared a glance up at him and found that his eyes were fixed somewhere over Crowther's left shoulder. The older man sighed deeply.

"My informant told me that a great many people have chosen… _your_ side, as it were – "

"Your informant," Lupin interrupted belligerently. "And who might _that_ be? Eh?"

Crowther's gaze flickered, his smile wavering for an instant before it returned in full force. Out of the corner of her eye, Tonks saw a few of the WCU officers shift on their feet.

"You know I don't betray my sources."

"But you'll betray your men, your country, and your morals if it means one more day in power."

The former Reaper was trembling. Tonks could feel it where the wand pressed into her forehead. He shuffled his feet and she suddenly felt the rope around her loosen. She froze, straining her eyes to peer down at the floor without moving and giving herself away.

Her restraints had been tied in haste; the rope held in place with a simple slip knot. He had inadvertently dragged the end free with his foot, and now she had a decision to make.

"Who are you to talk about _morals?_ " Crowther sneered. "You, with your wand pointed at an innocent girl."

"Innocent?" Lupin scoffed. "This bitch isn't _innocent_. She has werewolf blood on her hands, she killed a _child_."

Crowther's brow furrowed, gaze unreadable as it flickered between Lupin and Tonks yet again.

"She did what she had to do. Surely even you can't fault her for that."

"The world is full of people doing what they _have_ to do. But somehow it always ends up being _werewolves_ who die."

Crowther blinked, then crossed his arms.

"I don't even know what we're debating here, Lupin. Are you going to surrender, or not?"

"Fuck, no," the former Reaper almost laughed. "You're going to let me go without a fight, and I'm going to let this lot live. Do we have a deal?"

"What makes you think I care about them?" Crowther gestured dismissively at Moody. "You'll be doing me a favour if you get rid of him. And those two…" he quirked his eyebrows at Tonks and Marlene, then shrugged, "… are just collateral. Cost of doing business with a man such as yourself."

There was a moment of tense silence. The two men glared at each other through the flickering shield charm. Tonks held her breath and forced herself not to tug on her loosened restraints. If this was going to work, she needed the element of surprise.

Sudden movement in the back corner caught Tonks's eye. One of Crowther's officers was shifting on his feet again. She recognized him – the man who had been with Neil that night in Lunar District. Neil who was dead, dead by Lupin's hand, thrown in the Thames like so much _rubbish_ –

"Well, Lupin?" Crowther demanded, blue eyes hard. "Either kill them or surrender, I don't care. Either way, I win."

"Boss…"

The man in the back corner was edging closer, his gun lowering. His brown eyes were flicking between Crowther's back and Tonks's tense features.

"… I think we should – "

"Be quiet, Halforth," Crowther snapped, gaze fixed on Lupin. "I know what I'm doing."

He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows at the werewolf. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lupin beat him to it.

"Fine," he snapped, and Marlene let out a desperate sob as the tip of his wand shifted abruptly to point at her, "you want them to suffer? I can make that happen."

He reached down and grabbed a fistful of Marlene's blouse, hauling her away from Tonks. The woman wasn't tied up – abject terror had achieved the same results – and she huddled on the floor at Lupin's feet, entire body shuddering.

"… _p –_ _please_ ," she gasped, covering her head with her hands as she shrank away from the end of his wand. "Please, I have _children_ – "

The werewolf's back was to Tonks. She took full advantage of that fact.

"This is on _your_ head," he snarled at Crowther before turning his gaze to the sobbing woman. "Remember that, bitch. You're just collateral to him. Just another pawn in his fucking game."

He drew in a deep breath.

" _Cru –_ "

It was hard to cast a good spell with a rope wrapped around your neck. Or at least that's what Tonks inferred from the strangled cry that escaped Lupin's mouth when she hauled him backward by the throat. She pulled with all her might and the former Reaper toppled, hitting the floor several feet away from a flabbergasted – but still very much alive – Marlene. Then Tonks was on him, fists smacking into every inch of flesh she could reach. Her knuckles crunched against his nose and she screamed, first with pain and then with rage. This man had used her, hurt her, _violated_ her. If she could make him feel even a fraction of her pain, she would.

"Oy, lass! _Lass!_ "

Several pairs of strong arms were hauling her off the stunned werewolf. The shield charm had fallen, Lupin's concentration suitably broken. Other fists were continuing what she had started. She was pleased to see that some of them were equipped with brass knuckles.

"You're okay, lass, you're okay," a deep voice was saying in her ear. "You did good, you did _real_ good. It's over now."

Someone was pulling her to the table, sitting her down, checking her over. He was examining her knuckles, assuring her there were no breaks in the skin, no chance of infection from the blood he washed away with a cleaning charm. She stared blankly at the man – _Halforth_. She had seen him before, and not just in Lunar District. Where had she seen him before?

_Doesn't matter_ , her brain supplied. _It's over_.

She and Marlene were ushered out of the kitchen and into the living room, where Mrs. Weasley pulled her into a hug that threatened to squeeze all the air from her lungs. Then Molly sat her down between Fred and George, the latter of whom offered her a blanket which she gratefully accepted. Grimblethwaite and Vinaj were still questioning the family.

"You've been at work this week, Mr. Weasley. Why didn't you say anything to anyone?"

"He was holding my wife and children _hostage_. There was a listening charm on me at all times, he could hear everything. And if I cast the countercharm, he would know immediately."

"And this is true of your other children as well? The ones who aren't here… Bill, Percy, and Ginny?"

"He modified their memories. They don't know anything is wrong. Same with Sirius and the Potters."

"Neil Mulligan. Was he also being blackmailed?"

"No, he was under the Imperius Curse. Lupin used him to keep tabs on what you lot were up to. He also modified his memory, so if he was ever discovered he would give you false information."

"What happened to Auror Moody?"

"I think he came to tell us about Neil. Lupin knocked him out the second he came through the floo."

"And you, Ms. Mackinnon. Why are you here?"

"He needed a good Obliviator."

"Our records show he is an exceptional Obliviator himself."

"Only when using wandless magic. He was magically exhausted until quite recently, then he kept me here just in case."

"Auror Tonks. Why are you here?"

Tonks blinked. For a long moment she simply stared at the young man standing next to the fireplace. Angry voices carried down the hallway from the kitchen, followed by several muffled _thumps_ and a cry of pain. The sound gave her courage to speak.

"He liked having me around. To take care of… things."

She stared the man down, daring him to pity her. His brow furrowed, then horrified realization dawned and his mouth opened –

"You'll see justice done, Miss Tonks," the older officer interrupted gruffly, putting a hand on his young colleague's shoulder. "You all will. He'll go to Azkaban for this, I promise you."

Tonks nodded gratefully, hands twisting in the tattered blanket around her shoulders. She didn't listen to the last few questions, head still spinning with the events of the evening. Lupin had used an _imperius_ to keep her in line during her interview with Crowther. She had almost broken through it – _almost_. But she had been too weak, and Neil had died…

How, exactly, had that happened?

She was glad the WCU officers were walking on eggshells around her. If they asked her a question like that, she wouldn't be able to answer it.

Finally, the rest of the officers joined them in the living room, along with Crowther and the bloody mess that used to be Remus Lupin. The werewolf was virtually unrecognizable, his face beaten to a pulp and his clothing tattered and stained dark red. His shirt was hanging open, his Reaper tattoo on full display. Someone had taken a silver sickle to his skin, the letters _W.C.U._ standing out in raised pink and red between the heads of the two snakes. The sight should have made Tonks feel better. Instead, it just made her sick.

"Vinaj," Crowther said, nodding to the older officer, "everything check out?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Alright everyone, move out. Mrs. Weasley, I hope you don't mind?"

Molly shook her head quickly, waving them towards the floo. The officers began to disappear in pairs. One of the largest of them – a man with a bushy blond mustache who Tonks recognized from the Knight Bus – dragged Lupin forward by the shirt collar. The former Reaper's wrists were tied together with the same rope he'd used on his captives. One golden eye was swollen shut, the other was fixed on the floor. Tonks stared at him as he was hauled across the room. Part of her wanted him to look at her – _needed_ him to look at her.

But he didn't. He kept his head down, even as the green flames leapt up and carried him out of sight.

Something in the back of Tonks's mind was yelling at her. An inexplicable panic was rising in her throat, beating at the walls that surrounded her present moment. But she had no time to analyze this sudden and bizarre feeling. Crowther had come to a stop in front of her, fixing her with an appraising stare.

"I misjudged you, Auror Tonks," he said quietly. "You're quite a remarkable young woman."

She didn't know how to respond to that. His light blue eyes roved across her features for a long moment, searching for… something. Then his lips quirked into a half smile.

"If you ever get tired of that grouchy old boss of yours," he jerked his head back towards the kitchen, where he had apparently left Moody still unconscious, "let me know. There's always a place in Beast Division for someone of your quality."

He was turning away before she could begin to think of a reply.

"I apologize, Mrs. Weasley," he said with a grimace, "but there's a rather… substantial amount of werewolf blood on your kitchen floor. I'll send a – "

The fire roared to life again. All of Crowther's officers were gone by now, and for a heart-stopping moment Tonks thought Lupin had somehow returned to exact revenge. Hers was not the only sigh of relief when the familiar figure of Albus Dumbledore ducked out of the fireplace and into the living room, brushing soot off his sky blue robes.

The old man's eyes landed immediately on Molly, his lips forming the start of a question. But then he saw Crowther and froze. For a moment he simply stared at the other man, mouth hanging open. Tonks had never seen him so taken aback.

"… Abraham," he finally managed, cracking a hesitant smile. "What brings you here?"

"I could ask you the same question," Crowther replied warily, eyes flicking up and down the wizard's tall frame. Dumbledore glanced about the room, taking in the traumatized family, the still crying Marlene, the pale and silent Tonks. Then his eyes fell to the spattered trail of blood that led from the hallway, across the carpet and into the fireplace. When he raised his head again, there was a dangerous glint in his normally kind blue eyes.

" _What did you do._ "

The old man's usual mild tone had been replaced with an enraged hiss. A shiver ran down Tonks's spine. This was no longer Professor Dumbledore, the eccentric and grandfatherly Headmaster that everyone knew and loved. This was the man who had taken down Grindelwald at the height of his power, who had faced Voldemort and won. She didn't know what had raised his ire, but she pitied the man at whom it was directed.

"My _job_ ," Crowther snapped. "I'm cleaning up your mess."

" _My_ mess?" Dumbledore snarled, taking several threatening steps forward.

"You shouldn't have interfered at his trial," Crowther countered, refusing to back away from the taller man. "He belonged in Azkaban."

"He be _longed_ with his _family!_ " the old wizard bellowed. For a moment the word echoed around the room, and two pairs of blue eyes widened. Crowther leaned forward.

"But you killed them all," Dumbledore continued, pushing past the silence. "At Tantallon Castle."

Crowther returned to his heels, shoulders settling as he crossed his arms.

"I did what I had to. So did you. Don't act like your hands are clean."

"They're not," Dumbledore replied immediately. "My hands are covered in the blood of innocents, but _I_ am trying to make amends. I'm trying to prevent another godforsaken _war_ – "

"So am I," Crowther snapped. "And to that end, I'd appreciate if you stopped making excuses for that murderous sociopath you call a _professor!_ "

"What have you done to him – "

"Only what he bloody well deserved. He's been terrorizing these poor people for two weeks, and he killed one of my men tonight! Your foolish trust in that Reaper cost Neil Mulligan his _life_."

Another long pause. Dumbledore had gone very pale, his features rigid. Then a loud clatter from the kitchen broke the silence, followed by a string of foul curses. Moody was awake.

"Oh, for fuck…" Crowther sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward. "Do you mind, Albus? I've a lot of fires to put out, and I really don't have time to deal with _him_."

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder as the tell-tale thump of a wooden leg hurried down the hall. But Dumbledore didn't budge, standing directly between Crowther and the floo.

"Lad! _Lad!_ "

The grizzled Auror burst through the door, mismatched eyes casting wildly about the room. He caught sight of Crowther and froze. Then his gaze darted to the trail of blood leading into the fire.

" _No_ ," he breathed, so quietly Tonks could barely hear it.

"Alastor," Dumbledore said pointedly, "I think you should accompany our friend Crowther back to the Ministry."

"We're perfectly capable of handling Lupin without Auror assistance," Crowther said through gritted teeth. "Moody's had a traumatic experience; he should stay here. I'll send through a medical team and a clean-up crew – "

"That won't be necessary," Dumbledore snapped. "And considering what happened the last time Beast Division was left in charge of prisoners – "

"That was Umbridge's cock-up, not mine – "

"But your men let it happen. Forgive me if I don't trust their ability to uphold the law."

Crowther raised an eyebrow.

"Are you questioning _my_ ability to uphold the law?"

"Not at all," the old wizard replied. "Merely your interpretation of it."

The two men glared at each other for a long moment, the only sounds in the room the crackling of the fire and Moody's harsh breathing. Tonks glanced hesitantly at the others, relieved to find they looked as confused as she was. Then Crowther spoke again.

"Get out of my way, Albus. The paperwork for Lupin's trial isn't going to fill itself out."

He shouldered his way past Dumbledore and grabbed a handful of floo powder from the bowl atop the mantle. Moody stumped after him, shooting his Order colleague an unreadable glance as he passed.

"You can sit outside Beast Division if you want, Moody," Crowther said over his shoulder, "but I have no legal obligation to let you in."

The old man didn't respond. His hand twitched, and for a single, insane moment, Tonks thought he was going to pull his wand on Crowther's exposed back. Then Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly and Moody's hand returned to his side.

"Oh, before I go," Crowther turned around, unaware of this momentary drama, "I trust young Ron here has a safe place to transform tomorrow night?"

It took a moment for Arthur to find the words to reply.

"… erm… y- yes, we – we built a shed. Near the forest."

"Good," Crowther said with a swift nod. "One of my men will come by tomorrow to check it and teach you the necessary wards."

He didn't wait for a response. He turned and disappeared into the fire. Moody glanced over his shoulder at Dumbledore.

"I'll keep my eye on him," he tapped the corner of his whirling magical eye. "But I won't be able to do much."

"I know, Alastor. We'll get him out of there as soon as we can."

The old Auror grimaced.

"Aye. But how soon is that?"

The two men exchanged one last dark look. Then Moody turned and leapt into the flames. They hadn't even died down before Dumbledore was moving, wand drawing complicated patterns around the fireplace as he muttered enchantments under his breath.

"Albus, what are you doing?"

One of Arthur Weasley's arms was around a silently crying Molly, the other around a stone-faced Ron. His brows were furrowed, hazel eyes fixed on the old wizard kneeling before the fire.

"… checking for monitor charms," the man muttered absentmindedly. "He's too thorough, can't have been fully convinced…"

"Convinced of what?"

"Ah!" Dumbledore cried in triumph, as one of his spells released green sparks from the end of his wand. "There we are. Now I just need to…"

He twisted his wrist in a deliberate half circle, lips pursed in fierce concentration. The fire sputtered briefly, then he sat back on his heels with a sigh.

"There. Now…"

He summoned the bowl of floo powder and proceeded to stick his head into the green flames. In an armchair near the window, Charlie shook his head wearily.

"Barmy. Completely mad."

An odd lump in the sofa had been bothering Tonks ever since she sat down, but only now did she have the mental capacity to actually deal with it. She shifted in her seat, ignoring Fred's grunt of displeasure when her elbow accidently met his ribs. There was a bundle of black knitwear stuck between the cushions of the couch below her. One of Molly's infamous Christmas jumpers, most likely. She pulled it out with some difficulty – one of the sleeves was stuck underneath George – and was about to toss it into a corner when a flash of gold caught her eye. Black and gold. An odd color combination for the purely Gryffindor household.

She let it fall open on her lap. The gold yarn formed a single large letter – _D_. She furrowed her brow and glanced up at George. He too was staring down at the jumper, an odd expression on his face.

"Who's is this?"

He cocked his head.

"I… don't know."

Tonks turned it around and held it up.

"Molly, did you make this?"

The plump woman started at the sound of her name, glancing up from her husband's chest with puffy, red-rimmed eyes.

"… what?"

"Did you make this jumper?"

No response. Everyone stared at the article of clothing. Then Dumbledore leaned back out of the fire.

"They're on their way," he said, getting to his feet and brushing off his robes again.

"Who?"

"Everyone."

He turned to them, expression grim. Then his eyes fell on the jumper in Tonks's grip.

" _Fuck._ "

They all gaped at him. Hearing a curse word come out of Dumbledore's mouth was like seeing a smile on Snape's face – it just didn't happen. The old wizard stalked forward and took the jumper with surprisingly gentle hands. He stared at it for a moment, then glanced up at Tonks.

"You don't remember anything, do you?"

She blinked.

"What d'you mean?"

He grimaced and she glanced around at the others, suddenly feeling very frustrated. Something was wrong. Even if Dumbledore and Moody hadn't been acting like the world was coming to an end, she still wouldn't have been able to shake the deep-seated unease that was currently working its way up her throat. But Lupin was gone, he'd been captured. That was a good thing, wasn't it?

The fire roared to life yet again. The Weasley's living room was starting to feel like the Ministry's international floo exchange.

Five people tumbled out of the fire in rapid succession. James and Lily, followed by Sirius, with Kingsley hot on his heels and –

"Mum!"

Tonks rocketed to her feet, jumper forgotten. If she'd been feeling better – less wrung-out and raw – she never would have thrown herself into her mother's arms like a child. Andromeda Tonks was far from the maternal type, often leaving the role of caregiver to her husband Ted. But tonight she rushed forward, catching her only daughter in her arms and hugging her fiercely.

"Oh, my girl, my sweet girl," she murmured as Tonks sobbed into the collar of her perfectly tailored robes. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

"… it was… _a-awful_ , mum," Tonks gasped, shaking her head. "He wouldn't let us leave, he – he made me… I hate him, I _hate him!_ "

"I know, I know," Andromeda soothed, rocking her gently back and forth as the floo continued to roar behind her. Somewhere in the distance, the clock was chiming again.

"He'll get what's coming to him," her mother whispered in her ear, "I promise. And Davie will be fine, we'll get him out of there. We'll get him out."

Tonks's breath caught and she froze. Slowly, carefully, she pulled back and searched her mother's sympathetic brown eyes.

"… who… who's Davie?"

Andromeda blinked at her. Then, slowly, her face went slack, a realization dawning that Tonks was not privy to.

"Who's Davie?" she demanded again, all too aware of the hysteria in her own voice. "Please, mum, I don't understand – "

"Severus is on his way."

Dumbledore was suddenly beside them, giving Andromeda a meaningful look that drove Tonks up the wall. Was anyone going to tell her what was going on?

"He must have used some sort of… wandless confundus charm to replace their memories. I've never seen anything like it."

"This must be how he kept Reg and Benji and the Mackinnons from giving too much away," added another familiar voice. Sirius had appeared at her side, and Tonks could feel his warm hand grasping her elbow.

"You're right," Dumbledore nodded. "A normal memory charm would leave gaps, and if he'd tampered with Riddle's veritaserum there would have been hard evidence. It's brilliant."

"Brilliant and _stupid_ ," Sirius muttered. "Bloke has a martyr complex a mile wide. Why didn't he just _call us?_ "

"Because if we'd put up a fight, people would have gotten hurt," Dumbledore said. "And we all would have been arrested for aiding and abetting a fugitive. He did the only thing he could to keep us safe."

Sirius grimaced unhappily. Meanwhile, Tonks was still angry.

"Who are you _talking_ about?" she snapped.

"David Exley," her mother said, her voice soft but firm. "Or, as you know him… Remus Lupin."

Tonks blinked, then let out a bark of mirthless laughter.

"You don't actually think that psychopath is some sort of _hero_?"

She wasn't expecting the flinch. Her mother – who had once thrown a drink at Lupin in the Leaky Cauldron – looked as though she'd been slapped. She drew in a shaking breath, then turned to Albus.

"Please tell me Severus can fix this."

The old wizard's grim face told Tonks that he was not entirely certain of that fact.

"What did they _do to him?!_ "

An enraged cry sounded from the hall. Tonks turned to find Fleur framed in the doorway, shoulders thrown back and icy blue eyes flashing. Bill stepped into view beside her, face pale and mouth shut tight as though he was about to be sick.

"There's blood _everywhere_ ," Fleur pointed back towards the kitchen with a trembling finger, "it looks like they beat him half to death! _Ils vont payer pour ça, ils vont payer –_ "

She was striding for the fireplace, wand already in hand. But a surprising number of people stepped in to stop her. Tonks glanced, befuddled, about the room. While she'd been distracted by her mother, what looked like half the wizarding world had arrived in the Weasley's house. James, Kingsley, Bill and Damian were forming a wall between Fleur and the fire, all talking over each other. Xenophilius Lovegood was standing in a corner, arguing fiercely with Lily Potter. Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were tending to the Weasleys, who looked just as bewildered as Tonks felt. And newly arrived through the floo, still brushing soot off their clothes, were two women she only vaguely recognized and a man she'd never seen before.

It was far too many people, and far too much noise. It was just… _too much_. Suddenly, Sirius's hand on her elbow was the only thing holding her up.

"Whoa, cuz. Easy there."

He and Andromeda lowered her gently to the floor. She huddled against the couch, back pressed firmly into the cushions. Her cousin's thumb rubbed soothing circles into her forearm.

"It's alright, love. Everything's going to be fine."

Doors opened and closed. Individual voices faded into the background and Tonks closed her eyes. For an indeterminate amount of time, Tonks's world revolved around two things – the smell of her mother's perfume and Sirius's thumb.

Then there was movement. Her mother was shuffling aside to make room for another. The scent of cauldron grease and lacewing flies filled her nostrils.

"Miss Tonks. Look at me."

She kept her eyes stubbornly closed. Whatever Snape wanted, she wasn't in the mood to give it to him.

"Nymphadora."

Now her mother wanted her attention. But if she opened her eyes, there would be yet another disaster to deal with. Better to keep them closed.

" _Dora_."

Her eyes snapped open. Snape was kneeling in front of her, expression surprisingly empathetic. He had his wand at the ready.

"Dora," he said again, "you're missing a few memories. Can I give them back to you?"

She hesitated, eyes darting to her mother, to Sirius, to Dumbledore who was hovering anxiously in the background.

"… are they good memories?"

For the second time that night, a miracle occurred. Snape cracked a smile. It looked awkward and crooked and unpracticed on his lips, but it was genuine.

"Based on David's mood the last few weeks, I'd say they're excellent memories."

She contemplated him for another moment, then nodded once.

"… alright."

Snape reached forward slowly and rested a gentle hand on her cheek. She was surprised to discover that it was pleasantly warm and dry, with callouses running the lengths of his fingers – probably from years of potion burns.

"Keep your eyes locked on mine," he said. "Don't look away."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his wand moving. His brows furrowed in concentration.

"Merlin, this is impressive work," he muttered. "This explains a _lot_ …"

"Can you fix it?" Andromeda demanded.

"I think so. He can't have had more than a few minutes to do this, Crowther wouldn't have wasted any time. I suspect he… swept all the inconvenient memories into a corner somewhere, invented a few false ones, and let their imaginations take care of the rest. I just need to find where he hid it all…"

It was an odd feeling, having someone else digging around in her mind. Tonks couldn't necessarily pinpoint what Snape was doing, but there was a definite sense of… _otherness_. Like someone was trailing their fingers along the spines of all the books that documented her past, present, and future. Just when she was beginning to get used to the sensation the fingers seemed to freeze, pausing over a specific volume.

She could feel him… _tugging_ on something. Pulling on something with all of his might. Tonks's eyes were starting to go dry. She wasn't blinking enough, but she had to keep looking at Snape. There was a vein throbbing in the man's temple, a pained slant to his mouth. She was about to tell him to stop, to try again later, when whatever he'd been hauling on suddenly gave way with a _snap_.

Lupin standing at her door, trying not to stare at her bare legs.

" _Pink. My favorite color. It's pink."_

Lupin on her bed, underneath her, lips curled into a shy smile.

" _I was with_ you _love. You make me feel safe."_

In her room at Grimmauld Place, trusting her with a piece of his past.

" _My mum and dad didn't raise me to be a murderer."_

Angry, in an elevator with a boy who hates him.

" _You have any idea how differently the War would have gone if werewolves weren't treated like the shit you scrape off your boot?"_

Shaking the boy by his shirt collar after a stroke of terrible luck.

" _I avoid touching people, I avoid making friends, I would actually_ die _before knowingly inflicting this curse on another person!"_

High on a drug he hadn't wanted, justifiably upset.

" _I didn't lose_ people! _I lost_ everyone _, and every_ thing! _"_

Exposed, cheeks stained with tears, surrounded by people he didn't trust.

" _Nobody fears a_ victim! _And the second they stop fearing you is the second they start_ hurting _you!"_

A dark London street. A man uncomfortable with his own emotions.

" _You showed me, in thirty seconds, what it meant to be human. You made me believe that_ I _could be human, too."_

Tonks surfaced with a cry, shoving herself away from Snape and the others. She stumbled to her feet, barely making it to the hearth before she was back on her knees, vomiting into a fireplace for the second time that night. Hands tried to touch her, to brush back her hair, but she flinched away from them. She remembered everything.

She remembered David's face when he came back into the kitchen after Moody broke the news. He must have already known what was coming. Neil knew all the people who were sympathetic to Lupin's plight. Hearing the name _Weasley_ in amongst the others would have been enough for Crowther to prompt a swift investigation.

She remembered him trying to explain, trying to get their permission. Of course, they didn't give it.

Unfortunately, he didn't really need it.

He turned to Ron first – probably because he was the only person in the room who had a chance of overpowering the former Reaper. A swift motion of David's hand and the boy's face went alarmingly blank. Moody gave a shout and leapt forward, but a wandless stunner sent the old man flying. The other Weasleys followed in quick succession, then Marlene, and finally Tonks.

She remembered staring up at him, too exhausted to even pretend to put up a fight.

"Please," she shook her head, " _don't_."

"It's the only way to keep you safe," he said fiercely, dropping to his knees in front of her and reaching up to cradle her head in his hands.

"We could _leave_. L-let's go to Scotland, the – the Hebrides – "

"He'll just keep hurting people until he gets to me. I can't give him any more leverage. Not now, not when there's a chance of justice."

She kept shaking her head, tears welling up in her eyes and obscuring his desperate face.

"But I won't _remember_ you, I won't remember – "

He surged forward, pressing his forehead against hers. She could feel his breath – warm and tinged with chocolate – on her lips.

"Only for a while. I promise."

His lips were on hers for a fleeting moment. Then false memories flooded into her mind, shunting reality to the side.

She remembered how well he played the part of a remorseless killer. She remembered the fear in his eyes when Beast Division came knocking, when she called him _Remus_. She remembered the deliberate motion of his boot on the floor, the loose knot that freed her. She remembered him biding his time with his back turned, relying on her courage to end the stalemate. And she remembered the way his nose had broken under her fist.

She screamed. A raw, angry sound that was choked off abruptly by uncontrollable sobs. The hearthstones beneath her were stained with his blood. For all she knew, Crowther had already killed him.

Strong arms wrapped around her, firmly ignoring her attempts to push them off. She was pulled back into a warm chest. The scent of cauldron grease filled her nose and a small, distant part of her realized that she was bawling hysterically in Severus Snape's arms.

"This won't help him," the man said gruffly in her ear, and she felt his breath ghost across her temple. "Pull yourself together, girl. You can fall apart when he's safe."

Her sobs caught in her throat. For a long moment she simply huddled against black robes, lungs hitching with wet, desperate breaths. Then, finally, she pushed back far enough to peer up at the hook-nosed man. He blinked down at her, visibly uncomfortable with the situation and yet there, nonetheless. She swallowed, blinked rapidly, then nodded.

"… right," she croaked, extricating herself from his awkward embrace and clambering to her feet. Sirius's hand was back on her elbow, her mother hovering behind him.

"Right," she repeated, swiping tears away with the back of an angry hand. "What… what do we do now?"

* * *

**AN: I'm sorryyyyyy. Merry Christmas, I guess? Thanks for all the reviews!**


	19. Chapter 19

_"Auror Moody, thank you for speaking with me."_

_"Aye, well, I wasn't about to say no, was I?"_

_"Do you mind if I record our interview? Sometimes my quill doesn't catch everything, I find_ sanorum _charms quite helpful."_

_"Whatever you need to get this done right, Lovegood."_

_"Thank you. Now… I hear you were the principal investigator for the Muggle-born kidnappings in the summer of 1971?"_

_"Aye. Terrible business, that."_

_"Yes. Six children went missing, their families brutally murdered. You concluded that the packs were at fault – the Lothian and Brixton packs, in particular."_

_"Aye. The bodies had all the usual signs."_

_"… which are?"_

_"Blunt force trauma, slashing, clan marks burned into the skin. Typical fear tactics."_

_"The prevailing theory was that the packs needed fresh recruits, and Muggle-born children were an easy target. Is that correct?"_

_"That's correct."_

_"But you now believe someone else was responsible?"_

_"I_ know _someone else was responsible."_

* * *

It felt like a lifetime ago that David had come to Melanie Taylor's rescue in the Leaky Cauldron. The young woman was just as thin and blond as Tonks remembered, and she did not take kindly to being apparated against her will.

"Get _off_ me!" she cried, driving a bony elbow into Tonks's midsection as they landed in an alley several streets north of Grimmauld Place. "What the fuck are you _–_ "

She froze, blue eyes registering Tonks's drawn features and trembling hands. Recognition dawned.

" _Tonks?_ "

"I need your help," the metamorphmagus said abruptly. " _He_ needs your help."

The younger woman's lips tightened in a grim line.

"He didn't pull down the Atrium ceiling, did he?"

Tonks shook her head.

"And he didn't kill poor Neil."

"No," Tonks confirmed, almost choking on the word. "Please, the full moon is tonight and if he transforms in that cell – "

"What can I do?" Melanie cut her off. "What do you need?"

"You work at the Wizarding Wireless Network, right?"

Melanie cocked her head.

"Well… yes, but – I'm just a technician, I don't – "

"Could you pirate the signal?"

Melanie's eyes slowly widened, a grin spreading across her face.

"With some help, yeah. And I know just the girl."

* * *

_"Professor Dumbledore, thank you for your time."_

_"No, Xenophilius, thank_ you _. You're taking an enormous risk here."_

_"How so?"_

_"Staking your reputation on a seemingly outlandish conspiracy like this? Any other reporter would have laughed me out of his office."_

_"Well, outlandish conspiracies are… something of a specialty of mine. If this is true – what you and the others are saying about Crowther and the Wizengamot… Albus, it's_ horrifying _. How many lives have been destroyed because of this?"_

_"Hundreds, I fear. Perhaps thousands."_

_"If I may ask… why do you believe him? Lupin, I mean. He doesn't have the best track record, he could be lying to you. He could have made it all up."_

_"He didn't actually_ tell _us_ anything _, Xenophilius. I fear that if it weren't for Miss Tonks, he would have taken all of this to his grave. As it is, the… the murders, the facility, the weapons, the blackmail… it is all one big puzzle in which David plays only a small part. He couldn't have made this up if he tried."_

_"Albus, I have to warn you – many people are starting to doubt your judgment, especially when it comes to Lupin. I know you feel somewhat responsible for him, given how young he was during the War. Is it possible you may be… well, biased in his favour?"_

_"I_ am _biased in his favour. For good reason."_

_"Care to elaborate on that?"_

_"… David was only fourteen years old when he first came to me. He warned me of an attack on Diagon Alley, and the Order used this information to save many lives. I knew from that moment on that I had…_ power _over him. All it would take was one word from me, one… unwise word to the wrong person, and Tom would know who had betrayed him. Who_ continued _to betray him."_

_"But… you would never have done that."_

_"It was war, Xenophilius. And we were losing. I'm afraid I did several… very shameful things in order to defeat Tom Riddle. Including threatening a vulnerable child."_

_"… oh, Albus."_

_"I knew the second the words were out of my mouth that it was one of the worst mistakes I'd ever made. He was risking his life on a daily basis to bring us information because he thought we were_ better _than the cause to which he'd pledged his life. And with one sentence, I turned myself into a manipulative bully."_

_"… what happened, what did he do?"_

_"He got angry. Understandably so. And he left, and… I was worried that he would call my bluff. Never come back, and deprive us of the information we so badly needed. I wouldn't have actually_ done _it. I could never doom anyone – let alone a_ child _– to torture and death at Riddle's hand."_

_"But he did come back."_

_"He did. To warn us about a bomb at the 1980 Hogsmeade Music Festival."_

_"The 1980… I was_ there _."_

_"A lot of people were. You see, Xenophilius… it wasn't about_ sides _for him. He had so many opportunities to take the easy route. He could have just… left us to our fate. But he was always trying to do what was_ right _, no matter what anyone else said or did. Yes, sometimes he made mistakes. But we_ all _did, and the rest of us didn't have the excuse of youth."_

_"So… what are you saying, Albus?"_

_"I'm saying… well. I suppose I'm saying that I trust his moral compass better than I trust my own. Or anyone else's, for that matter."_

* * *

Melanie and her colleague Fatima chose the Gryffindor common room for their improvised radio station. The tallest point in the castle, it was easily transformed into a signal tower when Harry crawled out a window and welded an enormous antenna to the eaves. It also didn't hurt that the Gryffindor seventh years were especially quick to believe their professor's innocence.

"We saw him right before the ceiling fell," Lavender Brown stated firmly, "and there's absolutely no way he was casting any sort of wandless spell. You remember, Hermione! It looked like he and Tonks were about to start snogging right there in front of everyone – "

"Yes, thank you Lavender," Tonks interjected, too tired to morph the blush from her cheeks as every Gryffindor within earshot turned to gape at her. "Fatima, how long did you say this will last?"

"A few hours at least," the young woman replied from the window, where she was frantically casting spells on the antenna. "The bloke on duty right now isn't that bright, it will take him ages to figure out how we bypassed the system. They won't even be able to shut it down."

"What are we broadcasting, Tonks?" Melanie asked from a table near the fire, elbow deep in a dizzying array of microphones, wires and metal boxes.

"This," the young Auror said, holding up a small brass cylinder. "Xenophilius Lovegood was going to write an article about Crowther and what he did, but we can't afford to wait until it's written. This is a recording of all his interviews."

The portrait hole burst open, admitting Dumbledore, Moody and Snape.

"Are you broadcasting yet?" Snape demanded.

"Almost!" Fatima called from the window. "Give us a mo'!"

"Did you see him?" Tonks asked desperately, rushing forward to grab Moody by the elbow. "Is he alright?"

"He's alive," the old man said grimly, "I can say that much. But the bars on those cells are coated in silver, he's not on Wolfsbane, and he's already in pretty rough shape. I think Crowther's relying on nature taking its course tonight."

"We have to get him out of there," Harry said fiercely, wand already in hand. "If we get everyone together and take them by surprise – "

"Attacking Beast Division will just get him killed," Snape hissed at the boy. "Right now, Crowther's letting the full moon do his dirty work for him. But if we go in wands blazing, then he'll put a bullet through David's skull and claim it happened by accident."

"Which is why we need to cast suspicion on Abraham right away," Dumbledore said, nodding in agreement. "We have six hours until sunset. They may track the broadcast here, but the castle will protect us long enough to get the word out. Damian thinks some of his former colleagues are losing faith in their leader. If they find out who really killed Neil and _why_ , they might help us put an end to this."

* * *

" _Mr… Dempsey, is it?"_

_"Aye."_

_"You worked for Abraham Crowther until quite recently."_

_"Yes, I was an officer in the WCU."_

_"The Werewolf Capture Unit."_

_"… that's what it stands for, yes."_

_"And now you're helping a fugitive werewolf evade the law."_

_"I'm helping an innocent man get the justice he deserves."_

_"You were the first one to put the puzzle pieces together, weren't you? The weapons, David's tattoos, the timing of it all…"_

_"That's right. Some of us have been…_ suspicious _for a long time. Ever since Crowther showed up with those tranks. Did you know we have doses for children?_ Tiny _children, less than ten kilograms. 'Course we never use them anymore, but… we still_ have _'em."_

_"So Abraham Crowther just… showed up one day with weapons specifically designed to kill and incapacitate werewolves. With calculated doses so we could conserve our limited supply of silver and aconite."_

_"That's correct. Back then, we were too desperate to question it. At the time, those weapons were a godsend."_

_"So… one could argue that Crowther was only doing what he had to do."_

_"… I mean… there were other options. We could have… I dunno, enlisted the werewolves in Lunar District. If we'd given them the right incentives, they might have fought for us."_

_"Or they might have joined the packs."_

_"Are you_ justifying _what he did?"_

_"I'm offering a bit of perspective. I'm sure Crowther thinks he did the right thing."_

_"He kidnapped Exley and had his parents killed! Only a psychopath would think that was the 'right thing'."_

_"Mr. Exley killed quite a number of innocent people himself during the War, in order to maintain his cover."_

_"That's different."_

_"How so?"_

_"Because Exley was a minor who never should have been in that situation in the first place! And a lot of what he did made things_ better _, not worse. Crowther solved an immediate problem, yes, but he radicalized the twenty-one survivors of his experiments. Many of them were adults, already fully-trained witches and wizards, and every single one of them went on to be a Reaper. The infection rate went through the roof after we got those weapons, and the Reapers started breaking into Lunar District and pulling people out to join the packs. Every person Crowther infected spread lycanthropy across Europe a hundred-fold, creating more and more werewolves who were eventually killed by the weapons he created. I don't even want to think about how much blood was spilled as a direct result of what he did."_

_"I assume Crowther didn't_ mean _to release those twenty-one survivors. They escaped somehow."_

_"Well yeah, I mean he probably meant to erase all the evidence."_

" _And if he had, none of what you just said would have happened. The War might have ended quite a lot sooner."_

"… _yes. Sure. If he'd taken all those people – those innocent people who'd already been kidnapped, infected with lycanthropy, and_ experimented _on – if he'd lined them up against a wall and executed them, then yes, we might have won a bit sooner."_

" _You seem angry, Mr. Dempsey."_

" _I_ am _angry."_

" _May I ask why?"_

" _Because up until two weeks ago, I thought I was a good person."_

"… _and now?"_

" _Now… now I can't see the difference between me and the bloody Death Eaters."_

* * *

"I have to warn them."

"Bit late for that, Ron, we've been on the air for nearly an hour."

"He wanted to wait until he could talk to the _alphas_ ," the young man snarled belligerently, amber eyes flashing. He looked out of place in his own common room, broad shoulders and grim face setting him apart from the boys he'd grown up with. Out of the corner of her eye, Tonks saw Neville Longbottom take the smallest of steps away from him.

"We don't have time to reason with a load of angry werewolves," she snapped back. "David could die tonight without Crowther even lifting a finger, and I will do whatever it takes to keep that from happening."

"He'll never forgive us if our attempts to save him result in other people getting hurt."

"What d'you want me to do, Ron?" Tonks cried, throwing her hands up in frustration. "March into Lunar District four hours before moonrise and buy Paddy O'Toole a drink?!"

"Of course not!" Ron snapped. "David told me the Covent alpha is much more reasonable, I'll talk to him. Zarrar Hadid. Damian said he spends full moons at the orphanage."

Tonks mouthed wordlessly at the boy for a moment before once again finding her voice.

"… you're actually serious."

"Yes, I bloody well am."

Tonks glanced at Hermione and Harry, who wore similar expressions of grim resignation. She drew in a deep breath and let it out in an angry huff, rolling her eyes skyward.

"Fine. But your mum's going to _kill_ me when we get back. _If_ we get back."

"You're not coming."

She blinked.

"Sorry, what?"

"Neither are you," Ron said, turning to his friends. Harry's face darkened mutinously, and Hermione opened her mouth in furious indignation, but the young werewolf cut her off.

"I'm the only one who has a chance of getting through to them. The only one they might actually _listen_ to. Having you lot there won't help anything, and it might even make things worse."

"But you've never even _met_ another werewolf!" Hermione cried. "What makes you think you'll be able to keep them calm?

"It's too dangerous Ron," Harry shook his head, "you should at least bring Damian, or – or my dad – "

"I'm not letting you go in there alone."

Tonks took a step forward, wand already in hand. But Ron took a step back to compensate, lips quirking in the hint of a smile.

"I came here to tell you, not to ask permission. One drop of blood and a bit of bad luck – that's all that separates us from them. You're right, Hermione, I probably won't be able to do much. But fuck if I'm not going to try."

* * *

_"Mr. Potter, you fought in the Battle of Tantallon Castle, correct?"_

_"Mmhmm."_

_"Are you… allowed to talk about it? I know it's classified – "_

_"We've been discussing that, actually. It's a bit odd, what's classified and what isn't. I'd never really thought about it before a few days ago, but… okay, for example – I'm still,_ technically, _not allowed to tell you anything about Tantallon. I could lose my job, I could do time in prison, all of that, but… somehow, it's perfectly fine for Fudge to tell the bloody_ Prophet _what David did. Without any context whatsoever. It's bloody unfair, that."_

_"Would you be willing to… share some context?"_

_"Yeah, why not, we're all headed to Azkaban anyway at this rate. Long story short, the poor bloke lost his fuckin' mind. He'll say he didn't, but… mate, you have no idea what sort of pressure he was under. 'Specially in the last few months. He was all alone in there, and we still didn't know what the last Horcrux was. Riddle was so paranoid by then, he was ripping his own Death Eaters' minds apart trying to root out spies. That's how Snape was caught."_

_"How did David avoid that?"_

_"Nerves of fucking steel, that's how. Plus, he doesn't… I mean, he's actually a pretty crap liar. Once you get him talking, he doesn't really filter. But_ getting _him to talk… it's like trying to milk a stone. He just keeps his mouth shut and looks scary, and people… you know, make assumptions. And that worked for him during the War, his silent routine probably saved all our lives. But it sure as hell didn't do him much good afterwards."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Well, look what's happening to him right now. Most of the wizarding world thinks he pulled down the Atrium ceiling. He's Remus fuckin' Lupin, he's ruthless and powerful and of_ course _he'd do something like that. But he wouldn't, he just_ wouldn't. _You know how I know? Because I've seen him risk his life to help people he_ hates _. I've seen him take bullets for people he doesn't even know, and at Tantallon Castle, I saw him all but kill himself in a last…_ insane _attempt to protect his friends."_

_"… is that what happened? Was he protecting the packs?"_

_"Yes. He wanted us to use aconite, he – he_ begged _us. But Crowther wouldn't hear of it, and we… well, we had other things on our minds that seemed more important at the time."_

_"So they used silver."_

_"… have you ever… seen a werewolf get hit with a silver trank?"_

_"… no. I imagine it's unpleasant."_

_"It gets into their bloodstream. It literally burns them from the inside out. They die in agony, it's…_ horrible _. But you know the worst part?"_

_"… what?"_

_"It smells_ good _. It smells like bacon."_

* * *

"And you just let him _go?!_ "

Tonks was beginning to fear for her life. Mrs. Weasley was truly a force to be reckoned with when one of her own was in danger.

"He's seventeen years old," the young Auror said firmly, "he can make his own decisions."

"Not if they're _stupid_ decisions!" Molly all but shrieked. "How long has he been in there?"

"Almost two hours."

" _Two - !_ My son has been alone in Lunar District for _two hours?!_ Tonks, he could be _dead!_ "

"He's the only one who has a chance of getting through to those people. And sending someone else with him would not have helped. I'm sorry Mrs. Weasley, but I think your son made a wise and very brave decision. You should be proud of him."

"Don't tell me how I should feel, young lady," Molly hissed. "My boy is in _danger_ – "

"So is _mine!_ "

The cry echoed through the crowded common room. In the background, Lily Potter's recorded voice spoke of howlite addiction. Tonks drew in a shaking breath.

"A _lot_ of people have been in danger for a very long time," she said, voice trembling, "and we've been _ignoring_ it. David literally erased himself from our memories so that we could finish what he started. But bringing Crowther to justice won't mean much if we start another war in the process. Ron reminded me of that."

Tonks watched the older woman blink furious tears out of her blue eyes. Three weeks ago, her son's eyes had been the same colour.

"… but what can he _do?_ " she gasped, shaking her head. "He doesn't know anything about werewolf packs. How did he even _get_ there?"

"Damian had a spare portkey," Tonks explained. "And he knows more about the packs than anyone else here. That's not saying much, I know, but… well, that – that's part of the problem, isn't it?"

* * *

" _Ms. Walsh, how did you know that this… David Exley boy mentioned in the missing persons database was your patient – the man we all know as Remus Lupin?"_

_"You've seen the pictures. He's the spitting image of his father."_

_"… I 'spose so. He's a lot smaller than this bloke."_

_"Spending most of one's childhood on the verge of starvation does tend to stunt one's growth."_

_"… oh… yes, well…"_

_"It's quite unfortunate, really. That file was probably the only record of David that Crowther didn't dare erase. Auror Moody keeps the database in his office, and knowing him, he would notice if something went missing. I'm amazed Crowther even managed to cast an alert charm on it. I suspect he stole it sometime after the ceiling fell, when everyone was distracted."_

_"So, Mr. Exley spent years working only metres away from a file that might have supported his case against the man who murdered his parents."_

_"… yes, I suppose he did. But he didn't – he_ still _doesn't have any hard evidence. Even with the file, he would have needed people who believed him, who were willing to help. Given his experiences, I'm not surprised he never trusted anyone to do that."_

_"He trusted Auror Tonks."_

_"He never_ told _her anything, least not about this. He loves her. She asked him to go to therapy. He did, and… well, it is literally my job to read people. The dominoes sort of fell from there."_

_"Why has he been hiding this for so long?"_

_"He was protecting his sister. It's as simple as that. He was in the Beast Division cells before his trial in 1982. Crowther told him his sister was still alive, and if he wanted her to stay that way then he better keep his mouth shut. They've had a wary truce ever since."_

_"Does he have any proof that his sister_ is _actually alive?"_

_"Not yet, unfortunately. All evidence of her existence was erased, and we believe she was sent to an orphanage in London. Do you know how many orphan girls arrived in London in 1971?"_

_"I'm guessing it's a large number."_

_"It is, indeed."_

_"… Ms Walsh, this is rather an odd question, but… Lupin is often referred to as a… psychopath, or a sociopath. Would you agree with that assessment?"_

_"No. Absolutely not."_

_"Why?"_

_"His conscience is perhaps_ too _active, he is extremely empathetic, he's actually quite bad at lying, and he often completely disregards his own happiness and well-being. None of these are traits of a psychopath, or a sociopath. He_ does _have a temper, and he resorts to violence and intimidation more often than he should. But given his upbringing, that is hardly surprising."_

_"You're the second person today who's told me he's a bad liar. How do you know that?"_

_"You'll find out for yourself soon enough. He's not used to being the center of anyone's attention. He survived the War because he was important enough to be useful, young enough to be overlooked, and more intelligent than all the Death Eaters put together. He has perfected the art of being both intimidating and invisible – a perfect combination if you don't want anyone to know anything about you. But if you really pay attention to him, if you force him to answer you instead of deflecting or scaring you away from the topic… well, you usually get the truth."_

_"Sounds like the voice of experience."_

_"You have no idea how difficult it was, getting his real first name."_

_"How did you convince him to tell you?"_

_"I didn't, I just started guessing. 'How do you feel today, Kevin? Do you take sugar, Philip? Tell me about the packs, Angus.' When I finally got to the name David, he spilled tea all down his front. When I said it again, he had a full-blown panic attack."_

_"… I thought therapy was supposed to_ cure _panic attacks, not induce them."_

_"Yes, well. Sometimes you have to break things before you can fix them."_

_"Seems you took that philosophy to a whole new level here."_

_"… yes, I suppose I did. And I do feel quite horrible about it, but… then I think about what his life must have been like. With this awful secret hanging over him at all times, seeing this…_ murderer _climbing the ranks of the Ministry. He couldn't tell anyone without putting them in danger, without putting his_ sister _in danger. He couldn't do anything to help the people in Lunar District, and he couldn't even leave the country. He was stuck at Hogwarts, teaching children who were always going to hate him, no matter what he did. It's enough to drive someone mad, wouldn't you agree?"_

_"Yes, when you put it like that."_

_"At least now, there's a chance that things might get better. But that's up to us – you, the people who read this, anyone at the Ministry who has an ounce of human compassion. We can make things better for him – for werewolves all over the world. We_ have _to."_

_"And if we don't? If the status quo remains?"_

_"We'll have another war on our hands. Lunar District is not going to take this news well, and I don't blame them. Probably half the people in there can trace their lycanthropy right back to Crowther's lab. I'd be pretty angry. Wouldn't you?"_

* * *

"It's working, cuz. It's _working_."

Sirius's disembodied head was grinning at Tonks from the Gryffindor fireplace. Her heart leapt.

"How do you know?" she whispered back.

"We made the rounds at the Ministry, and people are starting to play it in their offices. Even the work crew in the Atrium dragged in a radio, people are _listening_."

"D'you think they believe it?"

"I dunno, I mean… I would think if they didn't, they would turn it off. Any word from Ron?"

"No. Mrs. Weasley's in a right state, it's been almost three hours."

"You did the right thing, Tonks. Letting him go."

She ran a weary hand down her face. The ever-present tightness at the back of her throat spoke of tears she hadn't allowed herself to cry since Snape had pieced her back together on the Burrow's blood-stained floor.

"… I should have gone with him," she muttered. "I could still go, I could… morph my eyes, put on David's jumper so I smell like a werewolf…"

"Cuz, that would work for approximately no seconds. And if David gets through this only to find out you died in Lunar District, he will lose his bloody mind. You can't do that to him, not now."

"But it's somehow fine if _Ron_ dies?"

Sirius grimaced and broke eye contact, glancing uncertainly around the Gryffindor common room. Children occupied every armchair, sofa, table and patch of floor, listening intently to the recording cylinder mounted to the WWN microphone. Stone-faced and eerily quiet, some of them had tears running down their cheeks.

"… you have to have faith that he'll come back," he eventually murmured, still not looking at her. "I know you want to protect him, but going after him will only put him in more danger."

"Is that what you lot told yourselves?" Tonks demanded. "Every time you sent David back to the Reapers?"

"Yes," her cousin replied bluntly, hard gaze finally returning to her. "Welcome to the world of hard choices, Tonksy. Sucks, doesn't it?"

* * *

" _How old were you?"_

" _Six."_

" _Do you remember what happened?"_

" _I wasn't supposed to."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"It's a lot easier to control a blank canvas. Nobody at the facility remembered anything – who they were, where they were from, how they'd got there. There was an Obliviator on staff to take care of any relapses."_

_"He erased your memories?"_

_"He tried. The charms never really stuck for me, I got pretty good at breaking through them. I helped everyone else do the same after I…"_

_"After you… what?"_

_"Never mind."_

_"No, David, that won't fly here. You want to clear your name, right?"_

_"Yeah, but – "_

_"And you want Crowther to see justice?"_

_"Of course – "_

_"Then you have to be_ candid _with me. No more 'never minds'. Tell me the truth."_

_"This particular truth is_ not _going to help my case."_

_"Why? What did you do?"_

" _I made over two dozen peoples' heads implode. I crushed their skulls with wandless magic."_

"… _why?"_

"… _that's not – what – Lovegood, did you hear what I just said?"_

" _Yes, and I want to understand why you did it."_

" _Because I was angry! I was –_ angry _and scared and I – I couldn't control my magic, and they were_ shooting _people in their cells – "_

" _So they were trying to erase the evidence?"_

" _Yeah."_

" _You're the only reason any werewolves survived that facility."_

" _And they all went on to be Reapers, I know, you don't have to bring me through the repercussions of it all. I'm bloody well aware."_

" _Do you think the world would be a better place if you had all died in those cells?"_

" _Probably."_

" _Why?"_

"… _are you thick or something?"_

"… _is that a rhetorical question?"_

" _If we hadn't escaped, the War would have ended a lot sooner."_

" _How d'you figure that? Yes, the packs would have been hurting for recruits. Riddle wouldn't have had some of his most capable Reapers. But_ you _would not have been there to help Regulus Black identify all the Horcruxes. You would not have been there to help the Order."_

" _I think you're giving me far too much credit – "_

" _And I think you're giving yourself too little. Even if we_ had _won sooner, does it really count if you use such tactics?"_

" _The ends justify the means, Lovegood."_

" _So you think Crowther did the right thing."_

" _He did_ some _thing, which is more than a lot of people can say. History can judge him however it bloody wants, all I care about is the future."_

" _I find that hard to believe."_

" _No amount of justice will bring back the dead. The only thing justice can do now is keep him from hurting anyone else."_

* * *

"What do you _mean_ , I can't come?!"

Tonks was livid. Moody glared right back at her, arms folded across his chest.

"You're magically exhausted. Even if you weren't David's girlfriend, I would still order you to stay here."

"I'm not going to just sit here and wait to find out if he's alive!" she cried, beyond caring that she was making a scene. "You said the Head Mugwump ordered Crowther to release him on bail, this shouldn't be _dangerous_ – "

" _Think_ , lass!" Moody shouted, finally reaching out and grabbing her by the shoulders. "The sun sets in an hour! Crowther's going to delay things as long as he possibly can, which means David might have already transformed by the time we get to him. Do you really think he'll want you anywhere _near_ him?"

"I can take care of myself!"

"I _know_ you can," her boss said, suddenly looking weary. "Merlin, lass, you've proven that beyond a shadow of a doubt. But right now, the best thing you can do for David is stay _safe._ "

"Come _on_ , Moody," Snape hissed from near the fire, where he was waiting with floo powder in hand. Mad Eye gave Tonks's shoulders one last shake, then limped past her. She watched him go, helpless and angry.

"Where will you take him?" she asked desperately as Snape disappeared into the flames.

"Depends how much time we have," the old man growled as he grabbed his own floo powder. "If we don't get to him before moonrise, we might have to put him down with aconite."

"Make sure you get the right dose, he – he's Muggle-born – "

"I _know_ that, lass," Moody said firmly, turning to her. "I'll floo the second we have him secure. I promise."

Then he disappeared into the fire. Tonks felt an arm wrap around her shoulders; a hand squeezed hers. Her vision blurred with tears, and the radio filled the silence.

* * *

" _Was it difficult, killing two dozen people?"_

"… what? _"_

" _I've heard from multiple sources that you were extremely powerful as a child. A bit less so now, but…"_

" _What is your_ point? _"_

" _I want to know how hard it is to kill someone. I've never done it before."_

"… _you're a strange bloke, Lovegood."_

" _Pot, meet kettle. Answer the question, David."_

"… _it's… fuck, mate._ Physically _, it's easy. Pulling down a bridge or holding up a ceiling – that's hard. But all it takes is a little… tweak to someone's brain stem and they're gone. Hardly anyone knows how to shield against that sort of attack."_

" _So you're saying it doesn't take much wandless magic to kill someone who isn't shielding properly."_

" _Yeah."_

" _So… why haven't you killed Crowther?"_

"… _eh?"_

" _Or, while we're at it, everyone at the Battle of Tantallon Castle? They were murdering your friends en masse, it would certainly be understandable if you – "_

" _Despite popular belief, Lovegood, I am not a_ lunatic _."_

" _David, you just told me you crushed the skulls of two dozen people when you were less than ten years old. If that doesn't make you sound like a lunatic, I don't know what does."_

_"I didn't have a_ choice _. D'you think I_ wanted _to be covered in other peoples' blood? I couldn't speak for a fucking_ year _, McIntyre thought there was something wrong with me."_

_"One could argue there_ is _something wrong with you."_

_"I'm aware of that, thank you. Why d'you think I steered clear of other people for fifteen years?"_

_"Do you ever worry that you'll… you know. Accidentally hurt someone?"_

_"Every fucking day. But I didn't… I didn't care enough to actually_ do _something about it until I started seeing Dora."_

_"Nymphadora Tonks. Your girlfriend. My word, is that a_ smile? _"_

_"Shut up, Lovegood."_

_"No no no, keep – keep smiling, David. It suits you."_

_"No, it fucking doesn't."_

_"And there's a_ blush! _"_

_"Are you done making fun of me?"_

_"I'm not making fun of you, I'm simply pointing out that you're human like the rest of us. Having a girlfriend makes you a more sympathetic figure – "_

_"I don't want her name in this article_. _You hear me?"_

_"But – "_

_"The Weasleys too, and – and Moody, and the Potters. If this doesn't work, then everyone you mention will be in danger. Crowther has friends in every corner of the Ministry, and all over Europe. The people you name will lose their jobs, and they won't be able to find another one. Ron'll get sent to Lunar District, Moody and Dora will get fired… just keep their names out of it, alright?"_

_"… you really don't get it, do you?"_

_"Get what?"_

_"They don't care about the risk, David. They care about_ you _."_

_"Well, then they're sentimental idiots. Someone has to be realistic here, and as always, that someone is me."_

_"What do you mean, 'as always'?"_

_"… nothing. It doesn't matter."_

_"No, I want to hear what you have to say."_

"… _look… I didn't – I_ still _don't think much of the Order, alright? They spend a lot of time talking, and not a lot of time_ doing. _"_

_"You're not big on talking, are you?"_

_"I'm talking right now."_

_"And you're clearly enjoying it so much."_

_"Can we just get this over with?"_

_"That's what I'm trying to do, David, but you keep avoiding my real questions."_

_"What d'you mean? I'm not avoiding anyth – "_

_"I asked you to tell me about your parents. Instead, you started talking about the facility. Now, that is useful information, but it would really help if you started at the_ beginning _."_

_"…"_

_"… David, are you alright?"_

_"I don't want to talk about it. Okay? I just… don't."_

_"… alright. Can you tell me why you haven't killed Crowther?"_

_"Jesus Christ, Lovegood, why is that so important?"_

_"Just answer the question."_

_"I don't want any more blood on my hands, alright? Not even his."_

_"That's… surprisingly magnanimous of you."_

_"Mag – what?"_

_"Magnanimous. It means generous. Reasonable."_

_"Whatever. Killing him wouldn't make me feel any better, and it would probably make a lot of things worse. He has a load of… brainwashed underlings who would just take his ideas and run with them. Crowther wants to eradicate lycanthropy by sterilizing all werewolves and locking us up. Some of his officers, on the other hand, would rather line us up against a wall and_ shoot _us."_

_"That would never happen. The Ministry doesn't execute innocent people."_

_"Tell that to my mum and dad. Tell that to Greyback's little girl or McIntyre's wife. Tell that to_ every single person _the Minions put in the ground on their damn fool crusade to erase a problem they spent hundreds of years creating."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"What do I_ mean? _Look at the way people like you have treated people like me over the past… oh, I don't know,_ six centuries _. You're frightened of us, so you… lock us up, try to kill us, take our children away from us. You're not making the problem go away, you're making it_ worse! _You're making enemies left, right and center, and werewolves aren't the only ones. You think veelas are happy with the way they're treated? Only jobs they can get are bloody…_ cheerleaders _at the quidditch! Leered over wherever they go, and don't even get me started on the_ vampires _– "_

_"I see I've touched a nerve."_

_"Yes, you bloody well have. If you were to write a book about all the abuses the Ministry has heaped upon Dark Creatures throughout history, what happened to my family wouldn't even be a footnote."_

* * *

Ron returned in a flurry of motion, stepping out of the floo with a smile on his face and another werewolf close behind him. He was a middle-aged, well-built man with handsome features, bushy mustache, and calm golden eyes that surveyed the Gryffindor common room with obvious curiosity. Murmured conversations ground to a halt as he stepped off the hearth. Out of the corner of her eye, Tonks saw several students reach for their wands.

"Welcome," she said loudly, stepping forward with an open-armed gesture and a smile that she knew looked forced. "Ron, good to have you back. Care to introduce us to your friend?"

"My name is Zarrar Hadid," the older werewolf said for himself in a thick accent Tonks couldn't place. "More than half of Lunar District calls me alpha. Are you… Tonks?"

She blinked.

"Erm… yes. I am."

"I hear we have you to thank for finally pulling Lupin's head out of his arse."

More than a few surprised sniggers met this statement. Hadid smiled, amber gaze fixed on the young metamorphmagus. Tonks cocked her head, brows furrowed, and the man continued.

"If the stupid _ahmaq_ ever came to visit, he would know I do not hate him. Until this crazy mongrel," he gestured to Ron, "sauntered into my orphanage, I thought _Lupin_ hated _me_."

Tonks gaped at the man, then turned to Ron. The boy was too busy fending off the affections of both his mother and Hermione to be of much help in this baffling conversation. Tonks turned back to Hadid in time to catch a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"I don't have much time," he reminded her, then gestured to Ron again. "Neither does he. But you should know… there _will_ be protests. Even now, young people are gathering in the streets past curfew. Tomorrow will be worse. But I will do everything in my power to keep things peaceful. I will talk to Paddy, he will see reason in this. Between the two of us, we will maintain order."

Relief washed – sweet and cool – down Tonks's spine. She felt lighter than she had in days. It must have shown on her face, for Hadid held up a finger.

"I want something in return."

"Anything," she said fervently. " _Anything_."

"Promise me justice will be done. For him, and for all of us. I can only keep the peace for so long."

"We promise," Molly said, fingers wrapped tight around one of her son's large hands. Tonks smiled, a fierce joy rising in her heart.

"I promise."

* * *

_"Mr. Exley, I do believe you have the makings of an orator."_

_"… I_ am _an Auror."_

_"N- no, that's not what I… never mind. You have a rather odd range of vocabulary, you know that?"_

_"What d'you mean?"_

_"Well, you – you know the word 'eradicate' but you don't know the word 'magnanimous'."_

_"… I dunno. I didn't read all that much 'til I got to Hogwarts."_

_"You were twenty-seven when you got to Hogwarts."_

_"Believe it or not, the Reapers didn't offer a comprehensive education. I knew how to read when I was six, and I never got any better. If it weren't for wandless dictation spells, I'd never get anything done."_

_"Albus tells me you've been petitioning the Wizengamot for years now to let werewolf children into Hogwarts."_

_"Yes."_

_"Do you think educating werewolves is the first step towards a better future?"_

_"It's_ a _step, sure. But there are a_ lot _of steps, mate, it's a waste of time trying to put them in order."_

_"What are some of the other steps then?"_

_"… I don't know how to fix the world, Lovegood. I can't even fix_ myself _."_

_"Fixing one might help fix the other, you know."_

_"It would take a bleeding miracle to fix me. If I had a car as fucked up as I am, I'd sell it for scrap."_

_"I'm going to pretend I know what that means and nod sympathetically. Oh, you_ do _know how to laugh!"_

_"… bloody wizards, don't even know what a car is…"_

_"I get the gist, though. Do you really think you're beyond repair?"_

_"Well… to continue the car analogy – if someone is willing to put a lot of work into me, I might be able to limp by. But it would cost a lot, and there's always the chance I'll just… break down and leave you stranded on the side of the road."_

_"… I don't know if I like this analogy."_

_"I nearly took Bill's arm off the other day when he came up behind me in the shed. I get depressed, and – and angry, and I'm hardly ever good company, and it's just not fair to ask people to put up with that for an extended period of time. I've been in this house ten days now, and I don't know how much longer I can keep up the appearance of…_ normalcy _."_

_"What, may I ask,_ is _normal for you?"_

_"… I dunno. Being alone, I 'spose. There's nobody to hurt, then."_

_"Nobody for you to hurt, or nobody to hurt you?"_

_"…"_

_"… are you a religious man?"_

_"… why d'you ask?"_

_"Your name is very Biblical. David, the boy who defeated the giant, and Josiah, the boy who brought peace to his people."_

"… _mum was religious. And all my grandparents."_

" _Not your father?"_

" _He didn't go to church with us. I suspect he'd seen a few too many friends die to truly believe in a higher power."_

" _Much like yourself."_

"… _yeah. I think Mum despaired of him."_

" _Do you think she would despair of you, too?"_

" _Well, she certainly wouldn't be_ proud _of me."_

" _Why not?"_

"… _you serious?"_

" _No, I'm Xenophilius. But I'm sure Mr. Black would ask the same question."_

" _Fuck that stupid joke, Lovegood. Nobody could be_ proud _of a son like me."_

" _I could."_

"… _what?"_

" _I could be proud of a son like you."_

" _Shut up, Lovegood. You don't know what you're talking about, I'm a_ murderer _– "_

" _You could have killed everyone at Tantallon Castle. You could have… tweaked all those brain stems and watched the Minions fall. But you didn't."_

_"I killed six people – "_

_"All of whom were manning_ machine _guns."_

_"… how do you know that?"_

_"You're right about your friends in the Order – they_ do _like to talk. James Potter said the ward you cast between the two armies was strong enough to absorb the_ Killing _Curse. You singlehandedly saved hundreds of lives that day."_

_"Half the Reapers only existed because_ I _released them from that facility. How many innocent people died because of me?!"_

_"Merlin's_ beard _, man. Do you also blame yourself for the extinction of the nundu and the crumple-horned snorcack?"_

_"The –_ what? _"_

_"The War was not your fault. What Crowther did was not your fault. What happened to your parents was not your – "_

_"I could have saved them!"_

_"…"_

_"… I_ should _have saved them, for_ fuck's sake _. I was powerful enough, I could have – I could have…"_

_"… David. You were_ six years old _. I don't care how powerful you were, you could not have saved them."_

_"How do_ you _know? You weren't there!"_

_"No, I wasn't. I wish I had been. You deserved to be protected, and instead you were kidnapped, traumatized and manipulated. You deserved an education, and instead you were brainwashed. You deserved justice, and instead you received hatred and derision. I wasn't there when you needed me, none of us were. But we're here now. And we want to help. All you have to do is_ let us _."_

* * *

At first, she thought she was hallucinating. She hadn't slept in two days, and she'd spent every second of the last twenty-four hours worrying about David. So when he stumbled – beaten and bloody – out of the fire and fell to his knees at her feet, Tonks simply stared down at him and determined that she had finally lost her marbles. It was too soon, Moody and the others had only been gone half an hour, this was just her mind playing cruel tricks on her –

"Holy fucking shit."

Harry's voice broke the stunned silence. The hallucination of David blinked up at Tonks from behind two black eyes and a swollen nose, amber gaze clouded and disbelieving. Then the floo roared to life again behind him and Mad Eye stepped out, scarred face still grim but his eyes shining with unmistakable triumph.

"Crowther's own men turned on him," he said gruffly, gripping one of David's shoulders. "They let this one go without a fuss."

The floo roared again and someone responded to the old Auror, but Tonks was no longer paying any attention. Her knees hit the floor with bruising force, and she was suddenly eye to eye with David. His face was caked with blood and filth, his pupils were different sizes, and his tattered shirt did little to hide the blistered skin and dark bruises on his torso that spoke of interrogations and internal bleeding. But he was _alive_.

"… Dora?"

Tonks drew in a sharp breath and her world suddenly went blurry.

"… d'you… remember me?" he asked, voice quivering, and her heart broke. "The – the _real_ me, not – "

She reached up and rested gentle fingers against his chapped lips. He blinked at her, breath warm on her skin, and she let out an involuntary sob.

"… David Josiah Exley…" she managed through the tears clogging her throat, "… I am _so mad_ at you. Don't you ever… _ever_ do something like that to me again. You hear me?"

She was no longer the only one crying. He shook his head violently, one large hand tangling in the hem of her jumper and pulling her forward.

"'m sorry, 'm so _sorry_ , love, I- I didn't…"

She fell gracelessly into his arms, the pair of them forming a sobbing, messy heap on the floor. The scent of blood and sweat and wood smoke filled her nose as she buried her face in his neck. She reached trembling fingers up and he grabbed them, pressing them to his pulse – frantic and thready but _there_.

Conversation continued above them. Tonks could hear Hermione telling Moody and the others about Ron's success and Hadid's visit. She could hear phrases like _as much time as we thought_ and _'bout bloody time his luck changed_. But all Tonks cared about was the warm breath at her temple and the thundering heartbeat under her fingertips. David was shivering against her, and she felt his chest hitch.

"… I hear you saved my life again," he said, voice high and wobbling with emotion. "Something about a radio show?"

"… it was a group effort," Tonks whispered. "You're lucky we didn't just storm the Ministry, we all bloody wanted to."

He pulled back just far enough to rest his forehead against hers and let out an exhausted chuckle. His cheeks were wet with tears. For several long moments they just sat there, breathing each other in. Then Tonks leaned forward to brush her lips against his –

" _Sss_ ," David hissed, jerking his nose away. " _Shit_ , sorry love, that – that really hurts – "

For some inexplicable reason, Tonks found this funny. She let out an undignified snort. David narrowed his eyes at her, a smirk slowly spreading across his bearded face.

" _Someone_ may have broken this yesterday," he informed her, gingerly touching the bridge of his nose. "A very brave, incredibly beautiful someone with a hell of a right hook. Who taught you to punch, anyway?"

"You did."

"Ah. Well, I clearly did a good job."

"Davie?"

They both jumped and looked over to find Lily crouched beside them, medical bag in one hand and wand in the other.

"Can I take a look now?" the healer asked tentatively. "I'm sorry, but you only have twenty minutes."

David grimaced, then froze, eyes going wide.

"Shit. _Ron_."

He made to stand up, but Tonks's hand on his shoulder held him in place.

"Ron's at the Burrow, he'll be fine."

"I promised him I'd be there."

"You're in no shape to handle a fully grown pureblood on his first full moon," Snape said from somewhere behind Tonks. "To be honest, I don't think you could have handled him _before_ all this happened. Ron will manage."

"You don't understand," David protested weakly, still trying to rise. Tonks was a bit alarmed by how easy it was to restrain him. "He shouldn't be alone, it's awful when you're alone, you don't understand – "

" _David_ ," Lily said firmly as she ran a series of diagnostic spells, "you're very badly hurt. You have… four broken ribs, a perforated kidney, and a severe concussion. If you go into that shed with Ron tonight, you might not come out again in the morning. Do you really want to do that to him?"

The werewolf blinked, glanced at Tonks, and relented.

"... no," he muttered unhappily. Tonks squeezed one of his hands tightly. It was trembling. His entire body, in fact, was trembling.

"Anyone have a spare robe?" she asked the room at large. There was a frantic shuffling as everyone made to take off their outer layer, but Moody was the fastest. His thick black Auror robe settled around David's shoulders, completely dwarfing the smaller man. For the first time, David seemed to notice the crowded room.

"Wha… what are you all… what is going– "

"That _bastard_ ," Lily interrupted with an enraged hiss. "That utter _bastard_."

She had one of David's hands in hers, the tip of her wand moving in complicated patterns across the skin.

"What is it?" Tonks asked urgently.

"Nerve damage," the healer muttered absently under her breath. "Why would he – "

"He wanted to make sure I hadn't told anyone else," David said wearily. "I can fix it later Lily, 's not a big deal – "

"It _is_ a big deal, David!" Lily cried. "For fuck's sake, he used an Unforgivable on you!"

The werewolf let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he pulled his hand out of Lily's grasp.

"…'s not like he's any _good_ at it. His crucios are a joke, I'll be fine."

For a moment, Tonks saw red. She didn't realize how tightly she was squeezing David's other hand until he turned her way, brows furrowed.

"… Dora?"

"Please tell me he's been arrested."

Tonks was glaring daggers at the blisters on David's forearms. Moody answered her immediately.

"Yes. Shacklebolt and some of the others are transferring him to the Auror cells right now, along with that Bennett bloke. Marlene and Dawlish are tracking down the Obliviator you told us about."

"We're adding use of an Unforgivable to the charges."

"… that law doesn't apply to werewolves," David murmured absently, rubbing his abdomen with his free hand. His gaze was becoming a bit unfocused, his mismatched pupils fixed blankly on the floor beside Tonks. She reached out and gently guided his chin up until she could look him straight in the eye.

"Then that's the first law we're going to change."

* * *

**AN: Phew! This chapter fought me tooth and nail. Only one chapter left! I hope you all enjoyed it, thank you so much for the reviews!**

**Author's Note:**

> Copying and pasting this wholesale over from my FF account - it's still not done, but you'll get the first twelve chapters in pretty short order!


End file.
